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disillusioneddanny · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 3. "Make it Stop"

Damian let out a huff, he couldn’t believe he was having to do this. But his brother had told him that he was worried about Timothy and that meant that Damian would have to do something about it. Who cares if the entire relationship between his two brothers was strange and made Damian’s head ache something fierce any time he did the mental gymnastics required to think about how this had even happened?

Danyal Al Ghul had been the heir to the Demon’s Head and Damian’s older brother. The man was seven years Damian’s elder and had been everything that Damian had failed to be as an heir. Until his older brother had disappeared off of the face of the planet. Danyal at ten years old had been shoved into the Lazarus Pits by a traitor of Ra’s and his body had never been found. Only for Tim to find him seven years later on his quest to bring Father back from the timestream.

The main issue, though, had been that neither knew of the other’s relation to Damian and had much to Damian’s horror and disgust, fallen in love.

There had been quite a story revolving around Danyal and Timothy and their whirlwind romance to bring their father back to the present time. It also did not help that Danyal had disappeared before ever learning that Bruce Wayne was his biological father, he had never gotten the chance to beat Mother in a fight to get that information.

Damian was still unaware of how Danyal learned about Damian and Bruce. Still, Danyal had made it rather clear when Timothy had brought him back that he was far from interested in being a part of the Wayne family. He had assured Damian that they would always be brothers and had even made a point of getting to know Damian just as he did with Bruce but it was still a strange relationship altogether. It likely had something to do with the fact that he and Timothy had fallen in love with one another. It made Damian’s feelings towards Timothy even more complicated than they had already been. On one hand, he found himself resenting the older boy for stealing yet another person away from Damian, yet on the other hand, he was thankful for Timothy bringing Danyal to him in the first place. Damian had only been three when Danyal had disappeared but he still had strong memories of Danyal and the love that he had provided Damian when no one else in their lives did.

“What are you doing here, Demon Brat?” Timothy muttered, bringing Damian back to the present, back to his current task.

Danyal had asked Damian to check on Timothy for him. He was apparently trapped in another meeting in the Infinite Realms and had been unable to get a hold of Timothy in the last two days. Damian had suspected that his older brother was overreacting but now, looking down at Tim’s disgusting room, Damian supposed that Danyal had reason to worry.

“Danyal,” Damian said simply as he looked over the room once again. Timothy’s vigilante suit lay in a heap on the ground in one corner. Damian counted out fifteen different cups and coffee mugs scattered throughout the bedroom. The room itself smelled stale and slightly of body odor. It was pathetic.

“Well you can tell Danny that I’m fine,” Tim muttered, burying his face in his pillows once more.

Damian clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I cannot do that. Danyal has given me a task,” he said with a sigh.

A soft sob slipped out of Tim’s mouth and Damian found himself almost pitying the seventeen-year-old. He tilted his head to the side, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”

Tim let out a curse and rolled onto his back, rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes roughly. “Nothing, Damian. Nothing that you would understand,” he said with a sigh.

“I’m eleven now, I’ll have you know that I understand a lot,” Damian said in a haughty tone before sitting on the corner of the bed. His relationship with Tim the last year was an odd one, that was one way for him to put it, at least. At the beginning, he had hated Tim and thought of him as an interloper, someone who did not deserve to be a part of Damian’s family. And then not only did Tim bring back Bruce, but he also brought back Danyal and Damian had found that he owed Tim quite a bit. Which made him uncomfortable as well considering he did not like being in the debt of others. Pair that with the fact that Tim had nearly died by Damian’s hands multiple times and Damian did not know how to feel about his older brother. Tim had always been polite, had always kept Damian at an arm's length even when Danyal was over. He always viewed Damian as someone who had to stay on guard around.

And at first, Damian was fine with that. Really he relished in the fact that he made Tim so wary of him. But that started to change when Damian came over to see Danyal more, and started to learn more about Tim during those visits and it had Damian wanting more, in a strange way he didn’t understand. He started to see Tim like his brother, like a friend. Yet he could never get close enough to act on those feelings and it was his own fault that he could not do so. He hated himself for it, hated Tim for it.

Tim let out a huff and Damian took in his brother’s features. The bright red nose, the red-rimmed eyes.

“Have you been crying? Are you injured?” Damian asked, now doing a cursory once-over.

His brother let out a dark chuckle and shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “It’s been, ah, how does Danny put it? A bad brain week?” He suggested and Damian furrowed his brow.

“What do you mean?”

Tim sucked in a breath before running a hand through his greasy black locks. “You know what depression is, yeah? B has gone over mental health issues with you?”

Damian nodded once, still watching his brother with worried eyes. “Yes, it’s a mental health disorder characterized by persistently depressed mood or loss of interest in activities, causing significant impairment in daily life. It affects how you feel, think, and behave and can lead to a variety of emotional and physical problems. You may have trouble doing normal day-to-day activities, and sometimes you may feel as if life isn't worth living,” Damian recited dutifully and winced as the snort that came from the older man.

“What’d you do, memorize the definition from the Mayo Clinic?” He asked sardonically. Damian flushed slightly.

“Maybe,” he muttered.

Tim just chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I struggle with depression,” he admitted, staring at the wall ahead of him, eyes unseeing. “I’ve dealt with it since I was a kid since those days I was stalking Batman and Robin on the rooftops. But in the last few years, it’s gotten worse. To the point where now I wonder what I’m even still doing here. Ya know?” He said softly.

“Still doing here as in your apartment? Because I must say, the manor is much better than this place,” Damian said, crinkling his nose. Tim made a noise in the back of his throat and Damian realized that Tim was crying.

“No. I just want to make it stop,” he breathed out, his voice hitching slightly as he did. “I thought, I thought things were better now. Now that Bruce was back Danny and I have a wonderful relationship and things were going well with everyone, I thought things would be different. But it’s not, it’s not different and I still want to die.”

That had Damian pausing. “As in you no longer see life as worth living?” he asked, hoping that he was wrong.

Instead, another sob slipped out of Tim’s mouth and he nodded his head once. “Yeah,” he whispered quietly. “And fuck, you’re just a kid, you don’t need to hear about this.”

Damian reached over and clasped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. He stared up at his brother with a determined gleam in his eyes. “Your life is worth living, Tim. I don’t- I’m not good at words. But you are a good person, and you bring joy to a lot of people’s lives. Mine included,” he said softly. “But the way you make others feel does not matter. What matters is that you are worth it, your life is worth it and you have a bright future ahead of you.”

Tim sniffed. “That’s not it,” he whispered, shrugging from Damian’s grip on his shoulder. “If I died, it wouldn’t change anyone’s lives, everyone would move on and be fine.”

“That’s a lie,” Damian said roughly. “Danyal’s life wouldn’t be the same. I do not know everything yet as he hasn’t been comfortable sharing all of it with me. But I know that you are the only thing that brought him back to humanity. My life would not be the same. This last year of getting to come over and spend time with you and Danyal has been some of the best days of my life. I have gotten to reconnect with my Danyal and I have also gotten to know my big brother better,” he said, looking up at Tim. “And I am not talking about Danyal, our relationship is not there yet, I don’t think. But you are my big brother and I would miss you. I would miss coming over for movie nights and for the times we team up and roast Danyal together. I would miss the nights on patrol with you where you actually trust me and let me work with you.”

A sob escaped from Tim again and Damian found himself with an armful of his brother. He said nothing else as he hugged the man tight, clutching him to his chest. He would have to work harder to make sure that Tim knew he was appreciated, that he was a part of this family whether he liked it or not.

....

“We’re not watching Mission Impossible!” Tim exclaimed, falling onto the couch dramatically as he smashed himself between Damian and Danyal. “I can’t watch another spy movie or else I will actually start losing brain cells.”

“I thought that watching all of the spy movies of this dimension was important to my education,” Danyal said innocently, wrapping his arm around Tim’s shoulders.

“I should have never suggested that you and Damian bond that way,” he said with a huff before he tilted his head up to give Danyal a soft kiss, eliciting a noise of disgust from Damian who simply threw the popcorn at the two.

“Do you know how weird it is for me to think about my two brothers dating one another?” He asked, looking between the two, nothing but amusement sparkled in his eyes.

Danyal craned his head around Tim to give the younger boy a devious smile. “Do you really think that’s the weirdest part of your life? Not you know, growing up in an assassin cult, not being a vigilante, or oh! Not the fact that you’ve had multiple clones try to kill you? The weird thing is to have two brothers, who are not related to each other in any way, date?”

“Yes,” Damian said with a sniff.

“What about the fact that your brother is a ghost?” Tim asked.

“Or that your dad was thrown in the timestream?” Danny suggested.

“Or that you’ve nearly committed fratricide multiple times?” Tim pointed out causing Damian to glower.

“What about the fact that your best friend is an alien?” Danny asked.

“Better yet, what about the fact that your dad is fucking an alien?” Tim said and both Al Ghul’s looked at him in shock and horror. “What?” He asked innocently, looking between the two brothers in confusion. “You’re telling me that you guys didn’t know that Bruce is sleeping with Clark?”

“He can’t do that,” Damian whined, burying his face in his hands as he fell to his side on the couch.

“Why not?” Danyal asked, looking confused.

“Because I have a crush on Jon!” Damian cried out.

Tim and Danny looked at one another for a moment before bursting out into laughter.

“Ancients Tim, this family is fucked up,” Danny laughed, holding his sides as he did.

Tim just smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, but it’s mine,” he said softly

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #DeadTired Ship #Damian Wayne and Danny Fenton are brothers #batman comics #danny phantom #family dynamics are weird as fuck #whumptober #diswhumpfics

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dairy-farmer · 2 months

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DamiTim idea.

When Damian joins the family he never tries to hurt or kill Tim. In fact, he is distant and polite to him at all times. He develops a brotherly antagonistic relationship with Jason and the father figure relationship with Dick, but he goes out of his way to not form any kind of real relationship with Tim. He calls him Drake, never invites him to hang out or spend time one-on-one like he does occasionally with Jason or Dick or Cass, and in fact they rarely talk to each other at all.

Tim, and the rest of the family, aren't sure what to make of it. On the one hand, the fact that Damian treats Tim with the kind of distant politeness you would a casual acquaintance or co-worker isn't exactly great. But on the other hand, considering he was raised by assassins and Jason tried to kill Tim a couple times when they first met, it's honestly better than most of them were expecting. But the main issue is that Damian always make sure that people are very clear on the fact that he and Tim are not brothers. Not rudely, not maliciously, but firmly nonetheless.

If people comment about the two of them being brothers, Damian's usual response is something along the lines of 'While did indeed taken and adopt Drake, The two of us do not have anything resembling a familial relationship, which I am quite happy about."

It probably would have been more concerning if it had a negative effect on their night job, but it doesn't. Damian has never complained about Tim's ability to do his job, has never hesitated to be his backup or come to his aide. He just doesn't seem interested in having a personal relationship with him.

Until!

The day Damian turns 18 the whole family has gathered at the manor for a family breakfast before getting ready for a big celebratory gala in the evening. Damian is the last to arrive, and politely greets everyone like normal, before he turns and smiles at Tim with a "Good morning, Timothy. You're looking well." Before continue on as if nothing has happened. Everyone is pretty shocked, but considering everything that has to be done by the evening no one really gets a chance to talk about it.

Later, at the gala, once all the guests have arrived and food and drinks are being consumed, Damian gets everyone's attention to give a speech; he thinks the guest for attending, thanks everyone for the gifts and their kind wishes, and then turns to Tim.

Very formally he asks Tim if he would do him the honor of accepting his offer of courtship, with an eye towards eventual marriage. Shocked silence, followed immediately by a sea of loud voices: guest gossiping, Dick and Bruce basically screaming "WHAT?!?" at the top of their lungs, and Tim just completely frozen and shock and bewilderment.

After all the guests are quickly shooed home there is a family meeting where everyone tries to figure out what the fuck is going on, at which point they finally learned the reason behind Damian's odd treatment of Tim.

Before showing up and joining the family Damian had made sure to read up on every piece of information about the family that Ra's and The League had, in order to familiarize himself with everyone and plan his integration. That was when he came across Tim's file and he fell in love instantly. Not only was Tim absolutely lovely in appearance, but he was highly skilled in combat and vigilante related skills, as well as a wide variety of civilian skills, as well as being friendly, helpful, and intelligent. Damian had been worried about Tim developing familial/sibling feelings for him, which would make it quite difficult to convince Tim to court and marry him. He was also aware that some people, particularly in high society and the media might take issue with them being legally related via Bruce's adoption, as well as the age gap.

So in order to deal with all those issues Damian decided the best course of action would be to keep a polite distance from Tim in order to prevent any family feelings from developing, while waiting to come of age and making sure it was well known that he did not viewed Tim as a brother in any way. Now that he has of age, of course, Damian is planning to pull out all the stops in order to make Tim his.

Over the next few weeks he showers Tim with gifts; and not just normal romantic gifts like flowers and chocolate and jewelry. Every single gift is painstakingly selected to cater to Tim's interests and tastes: flavorful and elegant coffees and teas from around the world, professional high grade photography equipment, autographed and exclusive superhero and skateboarding merchandise, as well as smaller gifts and trinkets. Damian spends a lot of time with Tim, who was confused and slightly reluctant at first, but was quickly won over by Damian's thoughtfulness and attention to detail.

It takes less than 6 months for the two of them to announce their engagement. The ceremony is lovely, they are deeply in love, and then they spent the entire honeymoon fucking nasty. Damian worships and destroys Tim's body in turns, with a level of skill that Tim is incredibly confused about since he knows for a fact that Damian has never dated anyone (which he now knows is because Damian was in love with him). At the end of their two-week honeymoon, it's pretty much a guarantee that Tim is pregnant.

👀👀👀👀👀 damian planning from the get go to make tim his wife and officially courting him as soon as he was able to!!!

and despite the initial distance between him and tim damian manages to close it in a matter of months because unlike so many people, damian genuinely had an avid interest in tim and payed close attention to the things he enjoyed and liked which was why tim ended up returning his feelings!!🥺🥺🥺

#answered asks #anonymous #asks #damitim

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 2 years

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Ok, so @xmarksthespotonthemilkyway made ficlets and they gave me so many ideas and I'm about to make that everyone else's problem.

1. Braindead soulmate au where they're separated by dimensions and Danny is searching through the Infinite Realms looking for the man who's name is on his body.

Danny pops out of this weird pool of ectoplasm, scaring the daylights out of some ninja guards who send one away to notify some "demon" of his appearance. Danny tries to talk to them but has to beat them up. When Ras appeared Danny commented that he needed to teach his guys some manners.

Ras asks who he is and how he got here.

Danny sasses him and tells him he's Phantom and he came from the pool.

Ras is interested until Danny casually asks Ras if he knows a "Timothy Drake" when asked why Danny casually mentions Tim's name is on his back (meaning they're soulmates) Ras is super invested at this point.

It goes as well as you'd expect.

2. Tim musing about his soulmate by @xmarksthespotonthemilkyway :

"What could he be, with them? What could they be, with him?

Unstoppable, he always like to believe"

Hnnn makes me think of an au where Tim and a op Danny are from separate dimensions and the Observants and other Powers That Be are doing everything they can to make sure these two never meet.

They fail. Cue the Observants screaming in terror and curling up in balls to cry about how doomed they are all while Tim and Danny are being cute and blushy with eachother in the little crystal ball they were using to spy on them.

Let's be honest. If either of them became evil everyone would be screwed. If both became evil....you better practice bowing down I guess.

3. Tim never understood why he could never find his soulmate. His full name was written in small slightly messy handwriting on his left shoulder blade for all to see (including him if he had a mirror or two) so why didn't his name exist in any database?

Tim never would have thought it was because his soulmate was from another dimension. Or that he was going by his adopted name, Daniel James Fenton.

No one knows Dannys real name given to him at birth. No one but him, his birth mom and Jazz, who helped him burn the documents his parents have never more than glanced at before adopting him.

4. Au of the au where Danny is the lovechild of BatCat and when he learns the (civilian) identities of his parents he contacts Selena to get to know her and they meet up literally anywhere except Gotham to avoid being discovered by Batman or Bruce Wayne.

Selena tells him about her being Catwoman but not anyone else's identities. They weren't her secrets to share after all. Word gets out that she's "taken an apprentice" and the bats and birds try to befriend him whenever they can. Danny has taken to stopping in Bloodhaven every chance he gets to chat with Nightwing and Co.

Danny gets wounded and his soulmark (Tim's full name) gets revealed and the bat has a "oh snap!" moment. Its even better if its Tim himself who's there as Red Robin for the drama.

#fanfiction prompts #prompts #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #catwoman #selena kyle #batman #red robin #tim drake #braindead #tim drake x danny fenton

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arcticlutra · 1 year

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Kon stared on in horror. It couldn't be. It couldn't be real?

Everything about this was wrong. Nothing about this made sense. It was repugnant. It was unnatural. Nothing here was right. Yet he could do nothing, do nothing with the green crystal collar at his neck.

Yet still, his eyes didn't lie as he saw Tim ponder over the blades at Dick's and Damian's throats. Jason stood to the side waiting, humbled and collared, his hood made a mockery in the form of a scarlet owl mask. The Red Hood humbled, collared and brought to heel.

Tim almost looked bored before his brothers who strained against blades that threatened their lives.

Kon couldn't move, terrified at the thought that he could fuck it all up even further, even as the kryptonite bit at his neck.

At Tim's shoulder lurked the cause: Bernard. The Serpent in the Garden that spoke honeyed words of affirmation, support and love. That spoke the machinations of Janet. Of plans years in the making. Of isolation and manipulations. Of promised futures and possibilities. Whose every needled word and serpent bite exposed an insecurity and hurt. Who carefully manoeuvred Tim into playing the assigned role.

"Go on Tim. They don't love you." Bernard kissed along Tim's jaw. "They always saw you as a placeholder. A cuckoo."

Damian wept against his austere training. A small child in a harsh world, met with an opponent far more broken and warped than he could have been trained for. One that he himself had primed and trained: a brother exiled and scorned.

"You're so right Bern...always so right." Tim murmured, pulling Bernard's fist into a kiss. "And what does a cuckoo do?"

"Please Timothy." Damian begged, for Dick's tongue had already been ripped out. "Don't do this."

"A cuckoo chick, kicks all the other eggs out of the nest." Tim stated and brought the knife to Damian's neck.

Damian felt the tears fall readily and unashamedly. The little boy was scared.

"Don't worry Damian, I'll make up a lie. I'll say you died by Ra's hand. Fighting to save us against him. But sadly your youth failed you and I was too late. Dick had already been too late..."

Damian didn't hold the tears back.

"Jason came too late as well, and we finished them off." Tim continued as he played with Bernard's hand. "They took out Barbara too. Priority target."

"Timothy...Tim...please..." Damian begged.

"Tshush...Tshush " Dick choked as he fought against the blood in his mouth.

"It will be such a shame as Bruce sees Alfred killed. He'll see it as Talia attacking. The final assault." Tim reflected as he brushed his thumb over Bernard's knuckles. His beautiful Castellan. "And as Bruce fights tooth and nail to protect his fortress...he'll see his soldiers fallen, compromised and dead..."

"Timothy...please." Damian begged as the blade dug into his throat.

"Oh Damian, you were never even a contender." Tim laughed. "You called yourself a Prince of Gotham because you were Bruce's Bastard?"

The raucous laughter and cawing of the Court made Damian shrink as far in as he could on his small frame.

"Pathetic little bastard. Bruce never loved you. You were an obligation. I was the one he trusted. Not the worst thing though, to be the trusted one. At least I'll make sure Gotham is safe. Once we've cut out all of the cancer. Heroes...villains...what is really the difference?"

"Nothing, my love." Bernard kissed into Tim's knuckle.

"You're right as always my Heart." Tim smiled, and looked to his Talons. "Talons, remove these Robins from my sights. Repurpose them for grander designs. And take this Kryptonian to my Chambers."

"I'll see it done, my Lord." The Rufous Owl bowed, and Tim nodded in agreement.

It was only when they were alone, and free of any bugs that the Rufous Owl turned to Dick and Damian and whispered. "I'll try and get you both out of here. But he's fucking unstoppable. Why the fuck did you fight?"

#tim drake #bernard dowd #timber #timbern #tim x bernard #jason todd #dc fanfic #court of owls #batman #batman fanfiction #dick grayson #damian wayne #court of owls tim #kon el kent #connor kent #timkon #timberkon

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doriannunderground · 2 years

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The headcannon where Tim doesn't tell anyone in the batfam about his journey/mission to confirm Bruce is still alive (and lost in time) and how he lost his spleen is entirely hilarious to me.

Like imagine one day, he gets seriously injured in a patrol night and he needs like serious medical care. EVERYONE is worrying about Tim and so they all flock in the cave/clinic. Either Dr. Leslie or Alfred run tests and give him medical care, and then in the middle of doing so they find out that Tim doesn't have a major organ.

Alfred/Dr. Leslie would be like. "Ah, it seems like Timothy has a missing organ", and Tim, who is both DELIRIOUS and HIGH ON PAIN MEDS, answers, "oHhH, yEaH I dOnt hAvE a SpLeEn", and then he passes out.

That's when everyone starts to FREAK THE BAT OUT, Dick would be like, "WHAT? HOW? WHEN? WHY?", Damian would say, "Tch, obviously Drake is incompetent enough to lose an organ", and Bruce, BATMAN HIMSELF, would be so confused on how he didn't know or figured that out, "how did I not know my son is missing an organ". In short everyone would be freaking out.

When Tim wakes up, he is met by a bunch of questions (and water, thank you Cass), and he answers all of the questions like it's not a big deal, like, "Oh yeah, remember when ya'll thought Bruce was dead and didn't believe me he was alive? Yeah, that's when I lost my spleen", then he tells them the whole story.

When he was done with his story everyone would be like this emoji (😧), then Steph asks where he thinks his spleen is, Tim just jokes, "Ra's probably has in a jar somewhere, for him to look at every day", because Ra's has a weird obsession with Tim (it's gross). Jason and Steph would laugh at the joke while the others taught it wasn't funny.

After that everybody would be so protective of Tim, he gets benched (which he gets mad for), and Bruce would go back to Nanda Parbat to retrieve Tim's spleen from Ra's, and everything about this Headcannon is just funny to me 👌👌

#Please I need more fics like this #Recommend me somee #red robin #tim drake #jason todd #batfam #batman #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #robin #Batman #dick grayson #damian wayne #batfam shitpost #alfred pennyworth

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literali1110 · 2 years

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Chenford + "I don't want to die alone."

tw: mentions of blood loss heads up, this is angsty but with a happy ending I promise!

“I don’t want to die alone.”

He utters the words before he can think better of it, a testament to how serious his injuries are. His brain to mouth filter seems to have been lost along with the liters of blood. He’d put up a good fight, running on adrenaline, but that had worn off, and he’d just felt tired. Tired, cold, scared, and alone.

But then Lucy’s voice had come over the radio, telling him they had found his location, and she was on her way to him. And all he could think was that he hoped she made it so he could spend his final moments with her by his side.

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but all Tim can think of is his regrets. And his biggest regret of all; not telling Lucy how he feels. It had felt like there were so many obstacles in the way of them being together, but thinking back on it, they all seem so insignificant. Now, he mourns every single precious wasted minute. Here he was, alone in more ways than one, dying before he got his second chance at love, at having a family.

“Tim!” Lucy’s voice comes through the radio again, slightly scratchy. He just knows there are tears in her eyes and he can’t help but let some of his own fall. “Timothy Bradford, I swear to God if you die on me I'll spread your ashes over Dodger Field.”

How is it that this woman manages to lighten his mood even at death’s door?

Somehow, he finds the strength to respond. “Don’t. They'll screw up…”

“Yup, even though it will screw up the pH of the grass. That’s how you know how serious I am. You are not dying.”

He knows what she’s trying to do. Trying to keep him talking, to keep him optimistic. She’s done it for him before. But this time things feel different. And he has to make sure he says everything he needs to before it’s too late.

“Take good care of Kojo for me,” he starts, blackness beginning to creep into the edge of his vision.

“Tim! No. You’re going to be okay Tim, we’re only a minute out, RA is meeting us on scene, you’re going to go home and take good care of Kojo yourself–”

He can barely keep his eyes open through her rambling, let alone finish telling her everything he wants to say. That’s okay, he’ll just skip to the most important part.

“Lucy, I lo-”

“No. No, Tim, no, please not like this,” Lucy cries in his ear, and, finding it fitting that it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, he listens to her request, falling silent.

Everything goes black.

-----------------------

He wakes up in a bright room. After a few moments of confusion, he pieces together the familiar scenery of Shaw Memorial.

“Hey.”

He turns his head slowly to his left, resting his eyes upon Lucy, who uncurls herself from the visitor’s chair she’d been sitting in. She walks over to him, grabbing onto his hand and holding it tight. He can tell by her eyes that she’d been crying.

“Hey,” he replies, his voice cracking.

“You’re okay, the doctors say you’re going to be good as new,” she tells him with a soft smile, and then pauses, her eyes welling up again, “you really scared me there, Tim.”

“I know,” he tells her, squeezing her hand back with as much strength as he can muster, “I’m sorry. I knew you would find me, but I was scared there too for a moment that it wouldn’t be in time.” There aren’t words to describe how grateful he feels that he was wrong.

Lucy takes a deep breath, wiping at her eyes. “So…do you want to talk about it?”

#chenford #chenford fanfic #chenford drabble #myfic #i hope you like this em

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nerdpoe · 10 months

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The Definition of Valor, part 1 of the To Live with Honor and Bravery series

Part 2, AO3

When Tim had been attacked by Widower, he’d opened with a slash at Tim’s eyes. Tim had dodged, but not quick enough, and the protective lenses had shattered. Tim had attempted to fight through the sudden pain and fucked vision regardless.

Then he’d gotten stabbed in the spleen, which was just shit.

He had only barely managed to drive himself and Pru back to the hotel, his sight full of black spots and nausea-inducing fragmented vision. But he’d done it.

And then he’d woken up to an all-encompassing blanket of nothing .

He could hear some sort of liquid bubbling and sloshing, people murmuring in League dialect, and could feel the bandages wrapped around his face.

Wait.

League dialect.

Tim was terrified, but refused to allow it to show.

Facts. He needed to take his surroundings into account, he needed to gather what information he could before he did anything .

He was laying on a metal surface, but it didn’t feel like a table. Probably a surgical bed.

He was not restrained. Their mistake, King Snake had seen to it that he would always be able to fight regardless of whether or not he could see the enemy.

His face was bandaged, so the Lazarus pit hadn’t been involved. Yet. Tim was under no illusions, if Ra’s thought it was required to make sure his new toy could function, he would gladly toss Tim in the Pit.

Unless this was some twisted new way to exercise control.

Fuck. Fuck . How was he supposed to do anything like this? Casework, Wayne Industries work, patrol, grappling from one building to the next-!

Oh God, grappling .

Would he ever be able to fly again?

He forced his hands into fists to hide their shaking as he lurched up and off of the bed he was laying on, introducing the first person to touch him to the dirt. Then the next, and the next, and the one after that-soon he was standing on uneven ground, panting and surrounded by unconscious assassins as he desperately listened for any other enemies in the room.

The assassins had done him a favor; they’d provided a fight for Tim to ground himself with.

“Little Detective, are you quite done?”

Chills traveled down Tim’s back as he turned to face the approximation of where Ra’s was.

“What did you do to me?” What was supposed to come out as rough and demanding, embarrassingly enough, only managed to come out as a small and broken whisper.

He heard Ra’s take a step closer.

Tim took a step back.

Ra’s chuckled.

“My doctors had just finished removing the debris from your eyes, when I had a thought.”

Ra’s kept walking closer.

Tim kept backing away.

And then Tim could not back away anymore, courtesy of the wall behind him.

“You get distracted, Little Detective, by anything and everything around you; so why not do you a favor?”

No. No , this sick fuck had deliberately -!

A hand gripped his chin and forced his head to tilt up.

“A few drops of perfectly diluted acid was all it took.”

Tim was gonna be sick. He needed to take off the stupid bandages, needed to get away from the creepy old guy fondling his face, needed…

He needed Dick. He needed Bruce.

Fuck, he’d even take Jason .

“The League will be your eyes, Timothy; you don’t need to worry about a thing. Just like blinders on a horse, no? Now you won’t be distracted.”

But Ra’s was no fool; Tim knew that wherever he was had a high chance of being soundproofed, completely isolated, and nearly inescapable.

“I will give you the tools you need to get started, Little Detective, but I expect you to get on your feet and back to searching for the Council of Spiders as promised. You have two weeks.”

The hand released his chin, and Ra’s footsteps stalked away.

Tim sank down and put his head between his knees.

He just needed to hold on long enough to get out of the compound, and then he could call for help.

~~~~~~

He had been given the room Tam was in, so that he would ‘adjust’ better.

So Tam was there when the blindfold came off.

Tim couldn’t see her, but that didn’t surprise him.

Ra’s was many things, all of them bad; but when he was trying to prove a point, he rarely lied.

Tim couldn’t bring himself to do anything beyond stare at where he knew he should have been seeing his hands.

Tam cried for both of them.

Tim was too busy planning to give his emotions more than a passing glance.

~~~~~~

The first thing Ra’s insisted on him learning had been technology.

Tim had already proven that he could still fight, so most of his lessons had been on how to utilize a screen he couldn’t see.

Tim found the current technology for the blind to be infuriatingly lacking, and was in the process of utilizing a text to speech program to create his own code to base assistance apps off of. It was excruciatingly slow going, and Tam had to review literally every little thing he did for typoes, but he created the bare bones.

From there, he’d managed to get his hands on some keyboard braille stickers, and partnered with the voice command program he’d created?

The rest was cakewalk.

~~~~~~

By the end of the week, he knew he’d grown complacent .

He knew where things were in the compound, and felt a sense of ease and familiarity that he did not want.

He was…becoming comfortable.

That was dangerous.

It meant that Ra’s demented plan was working .

Fine.

Tim just had to make sure that by the time he left, there would be nothing to return to.

~~~~~~

Ra’s had made a huge mistake, although it would be some time before Tim let him know it..

He had given Tim access to the armory.

“To make certain that your…outfit is better suited to your new outlook on life,” the dick had said before striding out on almost silent footsteps.

Tim contained himself. Just barely, but he did it.

Ra’s would get his.

Tim would make sure of that.

With the assassins ordered to assist him, Tim managed to create a type of sensory sonar in his cowl.

Added a program to his comm that would automatically hack the cameras around him and alert him in a specialized shorthand of how many people were around him, where they were in relation to him, and what they looked like.

Altered his grappling gun so that it sought out the best place to aim for by itself.

The lenses in his mask were utilized to discern the best throwing angle for projectiles, and provide that feedback to his comm. Otherwise, his comm would use available cameras in the area to direct his aim.

Restructured where his cape attached to his suit, so that it could better function as an emergency parachute should he need it and not strangle him.

The vocal commands required to navigate his tech were shortened to specific clicks and whistles.

Then the assassins were adequately distracted by arguing over the schematics that he and Tam had worked on the night before, he discreetly rearranged the trackers so that they would be easier to remove when the time came.

And if the schematics the assassins had pulled up on their screens also happened to have a tiny little program working in the background?

Well.

Ra’s had given Tim such a gift , and it would only be polite to leave one just as good in turn.

~~~~~~

Tim was three days away from being sent off to face down and finish off the Council of Spiders, and he had gotten into the rhythm of his new fighting style.

The comm in one ear, the cowl alerting him to proximity threats, the grapple seeking out safe areas to aim for-it was becoming as natural as breathing.

So of course, in the middle of a sparring session with one of his ‘helpers’, Ra’s threw out an EMP.

The complete lack of feedback was so disorienting that Tim not only staggered, but stood there without defending himself in a bewildered daze. Well, stood there right up until he got laid out on the ground.

“You must get better, Little Detective,” Ra’s chided from his corner of the room, “You cannot be anything less than perfect .”

The way Ra’s tone changed at the last word gave Tim the chills.

Every single ‘stranger danger’ lecture he’d had in school, every single ‘how to spot a child predator’ lecture he’d gotten from Bruce; they were all flooding his mind.

He didn’t want to know what Ra’s definition of ‘perfect’ was for Tim.

He could not stick around to find out.

But it wasn’t time to leave just yet.

Tim hauled himself up, got into position, and got to work.

~~~~~~

Tim and Tam slept in shifts.

She didn’t like how Ra’s looked at Tim.

She said he looked hungry, that he wore the exact same expression that made her grab her friends and leave bars.

Since they couldn’t leave, she instead suggested the shifts.

He knew that she wouldn’t be given the time to alert him if anything went wrong, but it made her feel better. It made her feel like she was doing something instead of just…waiting.

He understood that.

It was easier to fall asleep with her hand combing through his hair, anyways.

~~~~~~

Tim couldn’t see the explosions, but he could hear them.

He was also cursing himself for not recording them.

Now he had nowhere to turn for comfort that would be associated with Ra’s Al Ghul, and he had to move on and keep moving.

Perfect.

Ra’s would never have him.

~~~~~~

Ra’s had almost gotten him, but Tim had managed to win again.

His prize?

Getting kicked out of a window.

~~~~~~

Tim woke up to the hollow sound of a room made of stone, the quiet steps of another person, and the hum of electrical equipment.

He shifted his head slightly, and the flesh colored comm in his ear started chattering away about his surroundings.

He listened for a few seconds before hauling himself into a sitting position.

Alfred was on the other side of the bunker, the bunker was empty save for the two of them, and the butler moved with the assured air of someone who had no reason to rush.

Then Alfred turned and made his way to Tim, apparently holding a box of some sort.

Alfred stopped a foot away from where Tim sat on the bed.

Then he stepped forward and gently cradled Tim’s face.

Unlike Ra’s, Tim leaned into the touch.

“Oh, Master Tim,” Alfred sighed, brushing his hair out of his face, “What have they done to you, my boy?”

Tim tried to smile.

Given the hug he was wrapped in, he felt it was safe to say he’d failed.

He gave as good as he got, and Alfred was the one to step back from the hug after a good four minutes of it.

“I assume you do not want Master Dick to know?”

Tim shook his head, desperately scrubbing at his face to get rid of all evidence of tears.

He wasn’t ready. The time wasn’t right. Dick would overreact and bench him. He’d be seen as less.

A small box was gently pressed into his hand, interrupting his thoughts.

“Then put these on, dear boy; they will hide the worst of the damage, provided you do not give anyone enough time to realize they are contacts.”

Tim only barely got them in by the time Dick came down to the Bunker, and managed to bullshit his way through the conversation well enough to leave as soon as he could.

~~~~~~

Tim would never get used to contacts, but it was the best way to prevent cursory glances from family and friends realizing that he wasn’t, ah…well. To prevent them from finding out by accident.

No, he would tell who he wanted in the order he desired.

And he definitely wasn’t speeding up that schedule due to his hatred of the little eyeball torture devices.

“Call Kon,” he ordered, leaning back in his chair in the Nest.

When Kon had told him he was alive, Tim had been able to hide his eyes with the cowl and all his gadgets.

When Tim had hugged Kon after he allowed himself to process that Kon was alive, the cowl and all his gadgets had again kept his secret.

But things had calmed down, and Tim was ready.

“Tim? What’s up?”

Oh. This was going to be harder than he’d thought.

The nerves he’d managed to avoid up to that point started making themselves known, a writhing pit of anxiety just under his ribs.

Tim knew he was strong, Tim knew that he’d overcome nearly impossible odds, and he knew that if there was one word that would never apply to him, it was weak .

“Tim? You okay? Your pulse just skyrocketed, man.”

But what if Kon thought he was?

Logically Tim knew he’d just have to kick his ass to clear the air, but mentally?

Mentally Tim was waking up in an assassin compound again, trying not to vomit as an older man far too interested in him to be safe violated his personal autonomy. The same older man who had taken away something as precious as his sight in the name of control, and then called it a favor .

Tim took a deep breath. Then another.

Maybe one more for good measure.

“Tim?”

This wasn’t working.

“Kon, can. Can you come over?”

The line disconnected.

Tim hid his face in his hands and drew his knees to his chest, just as Kon let himself into the Nest with his own personal access codes Tim had granted him.

“Tim, buddy, you good?”

A hand carefully rested itself on Tim’s shoulder, and he felt Kon lean back so that he was leaning on the desk.

“What.” Tim stopped, swallowing.

Kon waited.

Tim took a shaking breath.

“Is there anything that could happen to me that would make you think I’m weak?” Tim had tried to sound controlled, really, he had.

But the words jumbled together, quiet and afraid.

Kon stiffened, the hand on Tim’s shoulder tightening.

“Who do I have to kill?” Kon whispered, his thumb moving in a comforting circular motion.

Tim snorted.

“Not joking, Rob. Did someone…just. Who hurt you?” Kon stepped away from the desk and with very, very controlled movements and a tension Tim could feel through the hand still trying to comfort him, leaned down so that he was shorter than Tim.

“Do you need a doctor? Are you bleeding? Do you need me to stop touching you?”

Tim shook his head no to it all.

“It’s in the past, Kon. It happened…it happened before you came back. I just need you to know I’m used to it now. I just. I.”

Tim took a deep breath and pulled his hands away from his face, turning so that he was facing where Kon was. Like ripping off a bandaid, really.

Kon stopped breathing.

Tim knew that he was going over every time he’d seen Tim, narrowing down who he had been with or around during the time frame he’d provided.

When he started breathing again, it was odd and strangled.

“ Ra’s ,” Kon snarled, starting to stand up.

Tim’s hands shot out and grabbed Kon’s arm.

And even though he could have easily just stepped away, the Super stilled.

“You’re the first person I’ve told,” Tim blurted out, trying to explain why Kon couldn’t leave yet, “Everyone who knows found out against my wishes, but you; you’re the first person I wanted to tell.”

‘ I need you here more than I need you hunting down an immortal assassin ’, though unsaid, hung clearly in the air.

Kon took some deep, measured breaths of his own, and then leaned over Tim to pick him up.

Tim barely prevented himself from kicking out and ruining his precious set up, instead putting Kon in a chokehold that would have dropped any human.

Then they were on Tim’s couch, and Kon was putting on a movie, and in bits and pieces over the night, Tim explained what had happened to him, bracketed on both sides by Kon’s legs as his best friend clung to him like he was going to vanish.

They fell asleep like that, tangled together and safe .

~~~~~~

Kon stared at the wall over Tim’s head, feeling his eyes heating up as he desperately tried not to melt a hole in Tim’s headquarters.

Ra’s Al Ghul.

Ra’s Al Ghul .

The name kept bouncing around his head, taunting him.

He tightened his grip on Tim, eliciting a tired groan before the shorter teen readjusted and settled down again.

Fuck, he’d deliberately blinded Tim. Tried to force Tim to rely on him so much that he’d willingly join the League. He’d implied that his intentions with Tim were so bad that the civilian he’d been trapped with had offered to sleep in shifts.

That.

Kon.

Kon was going to kill him.

Kon was going to rip him to shreds .

The Red Hood situation had been messed up, but Rob had come back and assured them it had been a misunderstanding.

So Kon had left it alone.

He’d kept an eye on Hood, of course, and was always prepared to take the man out if he ever stepped out of line again, but ultimately he steered clear.

Because Tim had asked. Because Tim had pulled Kon aside and done everything just shy of begging him not to get involved. It was a Gotham issue, it was a family issue, it was a Bat issue, they just needed time, Tim didn’t care about Hood anyways-

So he’d acquiesced.

But Ra’s Al Ghul was different.

He wasn’t a Gotham problem, he was a worldwide one. That meant he was fair game.

The old fuck couldn’t revive if there weren’t any Lazarus Pits.

Kon started trying to untangle himself from Tim, shushing him as his best friend protested in his sleep.

“It’s okay Tim, I’m just gonna go make sure he can’t hurt you again,” Kon whispered, only to be met with Tim somehow managing to shove both his arms up Kon’s shirt in his sleep.

Four more minutes of maneuvering himself, and he was finally freed from Tim’s grip and rising above Gotham. He stretched his hands before curling them into fists; it was time to make sure that asshole never, ever hurt Tim again.

There was a soft puff of air, and Kon stilled.

The Nest, like anything made by the Bats, was soundproofed even against Supers.

But Kon had been so focused on getting to Tim that he’d forgotten to close one of the doors that led to the outside all the way. Just one door, one small crack that sound could leak out of.

“I have to do this, Clark,” Kon whispered, refusing to look at his progenitor.

“No you don’t, Conner,” Kal said, reaching forward and placing a restraining hand on Kon’s arm, “You want to do this, because you know you can do this. But you weren’t the one that was wronged; it was Tim, and Tim wants you here .”

Kon finally turned to look at the older man.

Their relationship was a rocky one, and Kal was not quite what Kon would consider a father figure.

But he knew that Kal was right, and it sucked.

Just as he opened his mouth to put up a token argument, though, something whistled in the air and cut through his jacket.

Stunned, both Kon and Kal looked down to see a very unimpressed Red Robin right below them, flipping another birdarang, but this one had an eerie green glow.

“I know you both can hear me,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “But if you think I’m going to let you steal my revenge from me Kon, you’re delusional.”

Kal started to float a little higher, but Kon’s hand shot out and forced him to stay in place.

Red Robin looked like he was gearing himself up for a rant, and if Kon had to sit through it, so did Kal.

But as Kon floated down to Tim’s level, he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.

Rob still needed to sleep, and Kon would have to trap him on the couch to see it done, but he looked far more alive than he had not even ten minutes ago.

Kal was right; Tim was more important than some old piece of shit in Iraq.

Just. If Kon was ever in the same area the fucker was, there would perhaps be a new red stain on the pavement.

~~~~~~

Life went on.

While Bruce got used to being Batman again, and Dick slowly migrated back to Nightwing, Red Robin spent his nights perfecting his new fighting style, and his days quietly transitioning Wayne industries to be more user-friendly for himself.

None of his rogues noticed, or if they did, they didn’t care.

His fellow Bats definitely didn’t notice, or else he'd have his arms full of a seething, worried Nightwing.

Jason could go fuck himself.

Clark kept his mouth shut.

Tim made sure Clark kept his mouth shut.

And Kon, Bart, and Cassie had mandatory hang outs once a week.

Tim was genuinely starting to get better, he felt, one or two nightmares notwithstanding.

Perhaps…nah.

The Bats were their own special brand of crazy; he wouldn’t make a move until he was certain that Bruce wouldn’t overreact and bench him.

~~~~~~

When Bruce came back, he hadn’t been expecting a lot of things.

He hadn’t been expecting a new Robin, he hadn’t been expecting Clark to clam up at the mention of Tim, he hadn’t expected Dick to privately confide that he would never be Batman again, and he hadn’t expected to only ever see Tim in passing during patrol.

The boy was even going out of his way to avoid the Batcave, and kept communication to a minimum. Something was going on, and Tim was going above and beyond to keep everybody in the dark.

So Bruce did what Bruce did best.

He investigated.

Tim’s fighting style had changed.

He was relying more on sound than sight. He appeared to have installed some sort of tech that alerted him to enemies coming up behind him.

He took a few seconds longer to survey crime scenes, head cocked like he was listening to something.

He rarely looked at what he was observing, but instead tilted his head to the side.

His grapple gun appeared altered, with extra tech in it. It now made strange clicking sounds when it was lined up perfectly with an outcropping.

His suit had been altered so that his cape functioned more like a wingsuit or parachute, apparently in an effort to slow or control a fall.

His precious car only ever went on autopilot, with Tim in the driver's seat leaning back and obviously listening to something.

The mask hid it, but when Tim spoke to one of them directly during patrol, his gaze was always a little off-center.

There was a gap where literally no one knew where the boy had been while Bruce had been in the Time Stream.

Bruce compiled what he’d found, and retreated to the Batcave.

Fact; Tim was no longer using his eyes. High likelihood that this was because he either no longer had them, or they no longer functioned adequately.

Fact; something had happened while Bruce was away to make Tim have a grudge against Dick and Damian, and no one was telling him what it was. However, there was a high chance that his grudge was preventing the sharing of this vital information.

Fact; Tim had altered his tech to accommodate this, which meant it was more than likely permanent.

Fact; Tim was still just as formidable as he had been prior to whatever had happened.

Fact; Tim was unwilling to come clean about it to the family.

Fact; Bruce knew Tim, and knew that the second that information became relevant Tim would tell them.

Fact; Tim was not a liability in his current state. Bruce would not have to convince him of this, as Tim was clearly aware.

Bruce would have to initiate conversation about accommodations in the Batcave to ensure Tim could function just as well as he did in his Nest.

Bruce busied himself doing research on accessibility tech for the blind, and started making notes on how to improve the Batcave. He also started making notes on how to improve certain already existing accessibility products, and potential ways to work with Tim regarding Wayne Industries PR team and his sudden onset of blindness.

If they spun it right, it could potentially raise their stocks as well as open the door to many new charities. Tim had probably already thought of that, so it was a matter of needing to ask him what list he’d already created…

While he was planning that, he extended an invitation to Tim outlining what he wished to discuss. He also mentioned that if his third Robin came early enough, he’d be able to attend brunch.

He’d also included a more personal request at the end of the email.

‘ If you are ready and willing, I believe it is time that the family knows. Otherwise, a simple email response will do .’

~~~~~~

So Bruce had solved it himself and definitely was not going to bench him.

Tim sat at the table, listening to the chaos of brunch.

His eyes itched from his contacts, he had a growing migraine from the unfamiliarity of the environment, he kept grabbing the wrong fucking utensil because it was in the wrong goddamn place, and because everything was so close together he couldn’t pick out what was where by scent.

Cass leaned her leg against his, an invisible sign of support he was eternally grateful for. She’d been the one to find out first, on the highrises of Hong Kong.

But she’d never treated him as less, just rolled with it, proceeded per their plan, and reminded him that she was always open for a spar.

Cass was the best, and he would owe her forever.

The others though, Tim knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that they would overreact.

He was contemplating just…not telling them. Bruce knew, which meant Batman knew, which meant in between the time of receiving the invitation and arriving, the man already had contingencies made.

Also, fuck them.

Damian kept trying to poison him, but either becoming blind had granted him mystical levels of scent or the kid didn’t realize the poisons he was choosing had a strong smell.

Dick kept touching him, and it was throwing him off; he had been reaching for where he was fairly certain the bacon was when the eldest had knocked his shoulder, shifting his trajectory and ending with his hand on the pancake stack.

Cass had laughed quietly at that, the traitor.

But Tim had found that the easiest way to dodge a poisoned morsel was to ask Dick to pass him whatever object he needed. Dick, overcompensating for his stint at Batman, never said no and didn’t ask questions.

It was around the fifteenth time he’d asked Dick to pass him something when Damian finally snapped.

“Drake, the syrup is right there; are you really so incompetent that you cannot reach out and grab it?”

“Wasn’t aware that you thought of blind people as incompetent, Damian,” slipped out before Tim could stop himself.

Table noise stopped, with the exception of the head of the table where Bruce sat. He just kept eating like nothing was wrong.

Fuck it.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“But it’s nice to know where you stand in regards to the handicapped community,” Tim finished, looking over at approximately where he estimated Damian’s head was.

“Drake, I am embarrassed for you. Pretending to be blind isn’t going to grant you the pity you so crave.”

Oh that fucker . Fine. Fine , if that was how Damian wanted to play, then Tim would oblige.

He would make the newest Robin feel like such a fucking asshole.

Tim had not gone through the shit he had for some fucking pity .

Tim held out his hands in a ‘time-out’ symbol, before tipping his head back and removing the stupid contacts.

With them out, his eyes finally stopped itching.

Truly, a blessing.

Oh yeah, also the horrified silence as he leveled his foggy, milky white-blue eyes at where he’d heard Damian speak. That was a blessing too.

A blessing that did not last for long.

“Yes, Damian. How dare I exist in your presence as anything less than perfect.”

The table erupted with noise.

~~~~~~

After, Tim sat across from Bruce and talked in through uploading his personal programs into the Batcomputer.

Bruce had requested a debrief, but given Tim the option of just filing it electronically as opposed to face-to-face.

Tim appreciated the gesture, but went ahead and did it verbally. He could hear the others lingering in the shadows, trying to be inconspicuous but failing drastically. It would be easier to say it once and be done with it.

So he did.

Around the point of Ra’s dropping the EMP, though, he paused.

“B, grab Dick he’s trying to sneak out for murder.”

He heard a brief struggle, inevitably ending with Dick swearing under his breath as Cass, according to his comm, sat on him.

Bruce had not moved from his place in front of Tim.

Tim leveled an unimpressed look at Bruce.

“Is it really murder if the victim routinely comes back from the dead?” Bruce asked, voice flat.

Oh.

Okay.

That was…a fair point. But.

“Because you seriously contemplated that, you can no longer give me shit for Boomerang.”

“Hn.”

A large, calloused hand gently wrapped around his own and squeezed lightly.

Tim read the apology in the action, and squeezed back.

Neither let go as Tim finished his report.

The cave fell into silence.

“You have done beyond admirably, Tim,” Bruce said quietly, his grip tightening, “And I am proud of all you’ve achieved.”

Holy shit, actual emotions from Bruce.

Tim tried to play it cool, but he could feel his ears heating up.

“I mean, thanks, it’s like. Do or do not, so like. I just. Did.” Oh yes, Drake, very cool. That was definitely a sentence, with words and everything!

He didn’t need the comm to tell him that Bruce was smirking.

He could feel it in the air.

“Thank you for telling us, now we can function better when we have to team up,” was Bruce’s diplomatic response.

Tim nodded, before clearing his throat awkwardly.

Bruce’s grip loosened up, but the man didn’t let go.

“Now, regarding Wayne Industries. You mentioned that you’ve already put together a plan with Tam?”

Oh good a way out of talking about emotions and other gross stuff.

~~~~~~

“Hey baby bird, how’s it going?”

Tim was jostled from his morning civvie walk to the coffee shop by Dick throwing an arm around his shoulders.

Tim shrugged and rolled with it.

“Boutta get coffee and donuts. What’re you doing in Gotham? I thought you had work.”

Dick knocked his head against Tim’s and steered them towards the shop in question.

“I’m on administrative leave for lack of schedule adherence. How about I buy you that coffee?”

Tim smelled ‘overcompensation’ in the air, and smiled beatifically.

“Well, if you insist.”

~~~~~~

“Hey baby bird, how’s your caseload lookin?”

Tim paused the auditory feedback of the report he had pulled up on his screens and faced Dick.

The man had been almost smothering. On patrol, Nightwing was always right there. Off patrol, Dick was always right there.

Like, sure, Tim got away with shoving Nightwing at villains he didn’t want to deal with, and having his breakfast paid for was always nice.

But he could tell Dick was doing to make up for something he’d had no control over, and it was beginning to grate on Tim’s nerves.

It would be touching it if it wasn't so annoying.

Maybe some busywork would do him some good.

“I’ve got about forty-five cases ongoing right now. Want to-”

“Tim, forty-five ? Are you serious ? Give me like, half of those!”

Tim did not have forty-five cases. He only had twenty, and only three of those were marked high priority.

Tim gladly handed over all of his cases except those three over to Dick.

After all, the man had insisted.

Who was Tim to refuse such a generous offer?

~~~~~~

Jason was getting tired of the replacement's bullshit.

Everyone knew, Crime Alley was his .

Maybe a shot in the leg would help cement that tidbit of trivia.

He landed behind the kid and strode over.

“Look, replacement, I’m flattered that you keep trailing after me like a little fanboy stalker, but-"

“You’re right, Red Hood. Boy, do I sure wish I could just replace my eyes with eyeballs that work.”

What the actual fuck.

Why was he talking so loud?

What was he even talking about?

Wait.

“The fuck you mean, your eyes don’t work?”

“I’m blind, dumbass.”

Okay, that last part was said a lot quieter. He was definitely trying to draw attention with the first-

Jason found himself flying in the air, and that was not something he had been attempting to do.

By the time he’d collected himself off of the roof, it was to being stared down by a furious Nightwing.

“Seriously? Seriously . You’re giving him shit for his condition ?”

Behind him, the pretender fucking smirked .

…

He was gonna kill him. He was gonna fucking kill him.

~~~~~~

Damian approached Drake, allowing his strides to announce his presence.

Drake did not even turn around.

Damian cleared his throat.

Drake sighed.

“What do you want, demon-”

“Unlike Grayson, I will not be fooled,” Damian stated drily, holding himself straight with perfect posture, “Being blind has not deterred you from being an accomplished combatant in the least. If anything, it has afforded you the opportunity to prove yourself to Father. I demand a duel, so that Father may know who is superior once and for all.”

Drake’s sightless, pale eyes somehow found his gaze and held it.

“So what happened?”

Damian stiffened.

“I do not know what you-”

“No no, something happened. Normally you’d just try to stab me and be done with it, but now you want a duel . What. Happened.”

Damian felt himself flush, and tried to order his body to cease its mutiny against him.

It did not work.

Drake’s smile grew wider, and he knew that one of his specialized programs had pointed it out to him.

“Father is…most vocal. About how much you’ve accomplished. All the time.”

Confessing that felt like removing needles from his throat, but Damian refused to break eye contact.

Drake’s smile softened.

Disgusting.

“Alright, we’ll duel. But it has to be on even ground, so neither of us has an advantage. No tech for me, no sight for you, unfamiliar footing.”

Damian nodded, trusting Drake’s technology to translate the gesture.

“Lowest part of the caves, two hours. I’d start preparing if you want to prove yourself to Bruce so badly, little demon.”

Damian scoffed, turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

“You as well, Pretender.”

~~~~~~

“Hey Alfred, can you do me a solid?” Tim asked from the armchair he was slouched in, fingers idly gliding over the words on the page.

Alfred walked closer, delicately setting down a cup of coffee on the table next to him.

“Whatever can I do for you, Master Tim?”

Tim held out a fist, and dropped what was inside it into Alfred’s waiting hand.

It was a small rock. Not quite a pebble, but like, a level above that.

“In about an hour, can you drop that over the railing on the side closest to the Batcomputer?”

“Of course, sir,” Alfred agreed, sounding bemused.

~~~~~~

Alfred walked at a steady pace towards the railing that Master Tim had specified, checked his watch, and dropped the small rock.

Then, job done, he turned and went back to his regular duties.

~~~~~~

Damian refused to allow the pitch blackness of the cave deter him.

He stood, waiting for Drake to make his move.

The cave was distorting the sounds that Damian could hear, and he could not tell if he was hearing his own breathing or Drakes.

He-

There!

Drake had fumbled, and announced his position!

Without a sound, Damian darted forward and began the hunt.

~~~~~~

Tim sat at the table and lost himself in Dinner.

It was rare, but both Bruce and Dick had a case that overlapped with one of his own, so all three were working it together.

As it was mostly semantics and number crunching, Alfred hadn’t stopped them from discussing it at the table.

Everything was going well.

A peaceful, uninterrupted dinner.

“Hey, has anyone seen Damian?” Dick asked, sounding a touch worried.

Tim shrugged.

“Told me he was ‘going to train’ to prove his worthiness, or something. Which, by the way, Bruce, do you really talk about me on patrol?”

“I…I perhaps use you as someone that Damian should look up to.”

Bruce sounded hesitant, and Tim’s comm helpfully supplied that his ears had changed color, indicating embarrassment.

“I talk about you too, but only to your titans; same reason,” Dick confessed, with no shame in his voice at all, “They all agree with me.”

“Your efforts to escape a dangerous situation, when everything was stacked against you, and then refused to do nothing less than thrive, are something worthy of praise,” Bruce said quietly, an absolute finality in his voice, “And though I wish you would tell the other heroes about what you went through, I admit it’s just selfishness. I. I would very much like to brag to them.”

Tim felt his own ears turn red, and the table fell to silence.

“...Maybe,” Tim muttered, thinking about it.

~~~~~~

They were lounging in the library, listening to an audio drama podcast, when Damian stomped in.

Tim tilted his head from where it was resting on the armrest.

“Sounds like someone finally realized I wasn’t there.”

“You! You coward, you tricked me!” Damian shouted, and Tim knew without the Comms input that the kid was waving a sword at him.

“Dami, you tried to fight Tim ? You can’t-”

“Cease your coddling Grayson, Drake is more than capable of fighting his own battles and you demean him as well as yourself when you pretend otherwise.”

“Thanks, demon brat.”

“I will hear no thanks from the likes of a treacherous-”

“Boys,” Bruce cut in, papers rustling as he set his work down, “What happened?”

“Drake dishonored himself! He agreed to a duel and did not show up! I spent hours in the cave system trying to find my way back!”

“Tim, did you trick Damian?” Bruce was starting to sound like a tired dad.

“I mean, I thought it would be fairly obvious you were alone down there in my defense. I had no idea you would go further into the cave system.”

Tim heard Damian’s clothes move, and his comm gave him two quick A flat notes.

Tim dodged the batarangs the second they got thrown at his head.

~~~~~~

“Pretender, you have got to stay away from-”

“You’re right Jason, I do pretend that I can see, every day. But I’m forgetting what that was like.”

“God damn it, you know that’s not what I meant !”

~~~~~~

“Alright Tim,” Barbara started, wheeling alongside him, “I just need you to keep an eye out for Rosetti.”

It was a beautiful day, by Gotham standards, and she and Tim were in their civvies.

It was a pity, she really would have enjoyed a good stroll in the park. Perhaps a stop by that one sandwich shop, too.

But she was stuck looking for a small time smuggler with ties bigger than he knew what to do with.

Tim let out a small gasp.

“I see him!”

“Where?” Barbara asked, looked around discreetly before pausing and looking at Tim.

Tim turned towards her and waved a hand in front of his face.

They stood in silence, as Barbara glared at him and he let her.

“You’re hilarious.”

“I try.”

~~~~~~

Dick welcomed himself into Tim’s penthouse, intent on making the best of another day with the brother he’d pushed away.

Because unlike Jason, Tim had come back! And he hadn’t ostracized himself or brought about grievous bodily harm to another family member!

All Dick had to do was make sure he didn’t want to leave again; easy!

“Hey baby bird-”

“Fight me.”

Dick froze, dumbfounded.

“Uh, what?”

“ Fight . Me . I’m getting tired of this weird pity thing you’ve got going on.”

Dick reared back, the words as effective as if Tim had slapped him.

“I don’t-Tim, this isn’t-”

There was a flash of movement, and a literal kitchen knife was embedded to the hilt in the wall a foot away from his head.

Oh shit.

Tim was serious.

That was the only thought he had time for before his little brother was there , and then it was a matter of winning the surprise spar.

Which he did, of course, but it was…

Well.

That had been a hell of a spar, and Dick was going to use Tim as role model material way more often when talking to younger heroes.

He had managed to get Dick to the ground four times before Dick had finally managed to wrestle Tim into a hold he couldn’t wriggle out of.

“That was really good, Tim! Have you been practicing?”

“Damn it Dick, take me seriously!”

Dick smiled sadly, risking a headbutt as he leaned his head forward and gently leaned his forehead against the back of Tim’s head.

“I am, Tim. I’m not doing all of this because I think you’re less capable now, though.”

Tim stilled, panting slightly as he started to settle down.

“Then why are you smothering me?”

“Because I’m happy you’re back, you dork.”

“...Oh.”

Dick snorted, releasing his hold.

“Yeah, oh .”

“...Can you get the knife out of where I threw it? I was making steak and potatoes.”

Dick chanced a glance at the kitchen counter, and felt his smile growing as he noted enough for two people.

~~~~~~

“Fucking-! Imposter, I swear to God, get the fuck out of my turf!”

“Yeah, a lot of days I do feel like an imposter, living amongst people who can-”

“Shut the fuck up and go home, dumbass!”

“ Alright fine, here’s information on a human trafficker I found, geez.”

~~~~~~

“Ah, Tim. Good, hold this while I tune up the Bentley-”

There was a clatter as the wrench he’d tossed at Tim fell to the ground.

Bruce stared at the wrench.

Then Bruce stared at his blind son, in a safe environment where he hadn’t been expecting to need to use his reflexes, to whom he had just tossed it without any warning.

Tim’s wide, pale eyes gazed in his direction in disbelief.

“We will not speak of this,” Bruce tried.

Tim raised an eyebrow.

Bruce folded.

“We will not speak of this, and I will see if I can-”

“And you will attend the Wayne Industries gala in my stead.”

Bruce felt himself flinch.

“...I am busy that-”

“-And you will be a well-behaved version of Brucie.”

Bruce said nothing.

“I will tell Jason.”

Damn it.

~~~~~~

The board of directors were…confused.

There had been a shift in the products the R&D teams had been told to focus on.

They were to research and develop new tools for any member of the handicap community.

Specifically, there was a focus on assistance for the visually impaired.

Then Timothy Drake-Wayne walked in, for the first time he’d actually been to the office in almost a year.

And…yeah, the new focus suddenly made much more sense.

Their CEO had a cane, had clear and obvious eye damage, and was listening to the docket being read to him by Tam.

They discreetly eyed each other.

This…could be useful.

After all, their young, new CEO had been crippled in the worst way.

He could no longer read their body language.

This would be easy.

~~~~~~

It was not easy, and their new CEO was the devil.

It was a sentiment taken literally by half of them.

~~~~~~

Superman and Wonder Woman were making a proposal regarding teamwork in the Tower meeting room, and Batman was the one pitching the idea.

He’d walked up, taken front and center, and began to explain the pros and cons of the suggestion.

Then his phone had dinged.

His civilian phone.

The rest of the League watched in shock as the Big Bad Bat tugged the phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.

And then.

And then he smiled .

It was a little thing, but on Batman? It was the equivalent of a blinding, wide smile usually only found on Captain Marvel’s face.

“Uh, Batman?” Green Arrow asked, cautious.

Batman put away the phone and the smile vanished.

“Yes, Green Arrow?”

“Is uh…are you possessed?”

Batman frowned.

“That is the improper procedure to discern whether or not possession has taken place, and you know it.”

“Okay yeah, you’re fine. Just uh. You never pull out your civilian phone? Got kinda concerned.”

Batman’s shoulders stiffened, and his hand went to the phone again.

“I am just…very proud. Of my son.”

While everyone wondered just what the fuck had happened, Superman almost seemed to explode from pent up energy.

“I know, right? He had… that happen to him, and he just-and then! And then !”

Batman nodded along, as though the Super was making perfect sense.

“I doubt I would have been as tenacious in his situation,” the Bat admitted.

Holy crap Batman admitting he wouldn’t have been as good at something as someone else?

“And he’s still-!” Superman broke off, looking around the room and gesturing helplessly.

Batman nodded again, completely understanding.

The rest of the League was just confused.

“If you would like, I have some of his prototypes in the Cave to…show you. If you want.”

Green Arrow reared back as though slapped.

An express invitation to the Cave? What the hell had happened?

“Yes!” Superman sounded ecstatic, and Batman turned back to the presentation.

Green Arrow snuck out his phone and shot a text off to Roy.

If anyone knew what was happening with the Bats, it would be his son, if only from listening to Red Hood’s bitching.

~~~~~~

He looked at Roy’s response after the meeting, and froze in place.

‘ Red Robin is blind, dunno how, but he’s been using it to drive Hood up a wall. Redesigned all of his tech to accommodate it, still scary efficient. Ttyl. ’

Shit.

Even without the knowledge of how it had happened, yeah. Yeah, Oliver could see it.

Insurmountable odds, an event that would make almost anyone retire from the field, and Red Robin adapted to it and continued on.

He’d be proud too.

…

If he hurried, he’d probably be able to catch Bats and see that tech he’d been talking about.

~~~~~~

Spoiler dropped down from the rafters and knocked out the man below her.

Of all the ways to reunite with Tim, she really hadn’t thought it would be rescuing him from a kidnapping.

It had been super unfortunate; done in broad daylight, with tons of witnesses, and locking Tim in his civilian persona for the duration of it.

She definitely wasn't nervous. Totally. This was just going to be the first time she’d spoken to him like, for real for real since she’d come back and surprised everybody with her not-deadness.

But it was cool.

She’d just saunter in, and save the day, and Tim would definitely forgive her or she’d bring up how nasty he’d been about the pregnancy thing.

It was flawless and she wasn’t relying on emotional manipulation to dodge the ramifications of her actions.

She was just.

Okay.

Okay, maybe she was relying on manipulation like, a little bit.

But Tim did that all the time!

Oh hey that was a weird door.

Steph tried to gently nudge it open.

It was locked.

Steph tried the same approach, but with less gentle and more ‘kick the door down’.

It was unlocked.

Tim’s head jerked up from where he was tied to the chair, eyes wide-

Eyes.

What…was…

They were fogged over, milky, unseeing.

Steph didn’t remember walking forward, just kneeling in front of Tim and gently tracing under his eyes with her thumbs.

Three hours.

He’d been with his kidnappers for only three hours.

And they’d…

“Hey,” she whispered, leaning forward and wrapping him in a hug, “I’m gonna untie you, but I need to finish up.”

Fuck Bruce’s rules.

She was gonna-

“They didn’t do this,” Tim whispered back, resting his head in the crook of her neck, “This was from almost a year ago. Don’t kill them.”

Hmm. There wasn’t really a point in going after them if they hadn’t done this to Tim.

“Alright. Then who did ?”

She’d just hunt down the ones that had .

~~~~~~

Barbara made sure that her coffee table was in the correct set up, that there was nothing on the floor, and settled in with her coffee.

It was time.

Cass was there first, because of course she was.

Tim was next, and set down across from Cass.

All three of them were present.

It was time to begin.

Barbara decided to go first.

“Bruce tried to keep me from a mission because it would require investigating certain areas in person. Pretty sure he subconsciously thinks I’m anchored to the Clocktower.”

Tim and Cass nodded.

“Jason tried to stop me. Said it would be better if he got information. Thinks I can’t talk, still.”

Barbara and Tim nodded.

“Dick almost blew my cover because he tried to carry me while grappling. He thought I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

Cass and Barbara let out sympathetic sounds.

The meeting of microaggressions continued, as it did every 15th, as the trio brainstormed how to beat the incompetence out of their non-disabled partners.

Negotiations fell through, as they always did, when the two options were ‘educate them with a five hour long powerpoint’ or ‘beat them into the dirt every time they do it’.

“Both,” Cass said unhelpfully.

“Tim you’re more than capable, just grab Cass and beat them until they learn,” Barbara tried to order Tim.

“That won’t work if they don’t know how not to do it in the first place!” Tim argued.

The meeting ended in the early morning hours of the next day, and no consensus had been reached.

~~~~~~

Sometimes, Tim forgot.

He would wake up, and have a brief moment of panic at the nothing in front of him, and then remember.

Those days were bad.

Those days, he deliberately got whoever was nearest to be near him and just…be there. So he knew he wasn’t alone.

Dick was off planet. Bruce and Damian were neck deep in an investigation Tim refused to pull them away from. Barbara was having a family date with the commissioner. Steph was having a girls day with her mom. Duke was working on a case he refused to ask for help on, and Tim wasn’t going to pull him away from that.

Kon was off planet, Bart was at a family event, Cassie was at some sort of training camp, Raven was off planet with Dick as was Garfield and Garth, although he didn’t know them as well as his own team.

Only one option.

“The fuck do you want, and why are you calling me?”

Tim swallowed.

“Do you ever dream of the coffin?”

The line went silent.

“Replacement, I need an explanation before I go over there to put you in your own grave to crawl out of.”

“I. I forgot that I was.” Tim took a shuddering breath, “I had a bad dream. There’s no one else.”

The line, again, went silent. Then it was full of rustling sounds.

“You at the penthouse you think I don’t know about?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m making waffles, we’re eating them, and then I’m gonna read and not talk to you, and you’re not gonna talk to me.”

“Sounds good.”

He didn’t necessarily like Jason. It was hard to like someone who had broken his bones and slit his throat.

But he knew Jason had calmed down from his earlier days, and that if anyone would understand the need to just have someone else in the same room, it would be him.

They didn’t need to get along to understand each other.

~~~~~~

Jason ended up reading outloud, voice quiet and soothing as Tim curled up in the corner of the couch.

~~~~~~

Duke was in a little trouble.

Correction, Duke was in a lot of trouble.

Red Robin was in front of him, in the Batcave, and was in the process of taking off his mask.

Duke had just been invited to the Batfamily, he was still learning who was who, and what he remembered of Red Robin was scary.

When he’d been an unofficial Robin, and actual Robin had tried to fight them all, Red Robin had, quite frankly, terrified Duke.

It was like the man was omnipotent; he didn’t need to be looking at someone to know exactly where they were and what they were doing. He’d handled himself in a fight with grace, and afterwards had siphoned through the information he’d needed at an alarming speed.

So Duke knew that Red Robin knew he was there, and was choosing to show him what was under the mask.

Was this what Lira felt like, when she watched those K-pop groups? Duke wasn’t ready .

The mask came off.

Red Robin turned around.

…

That was Tim goddamn Drake-Wayne, the CEO of Wayne Industries and driving force behind their recent accessibility tech.

Holy shit.

“Can I have your autograph?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that! It’d just slipped out!

Now Tim was laughing at him, and Duke deserved it because he was an idiot.

“Sure, but let’s wash up and go eat first,” Tim agreed, turning and leading the way to the showers.

But Duke’s mouth just did not know when to shut the fuck up.

“So like, if you’re blind, and I control light, I think we should partner up for one or two missions,” Tim paused in his beeline for the locker room, and tilted his head in Duke's direction. Duke, predictably, panic rambled.

“I mean; I can use light bright enough to stun people and it won’t affect you, or I can make it pitch black, and it still won’t affect you, so it’d…be…perfect…I’m sorry I’ll stop.”

“Huh,” Tim said, shrugging and starting his walk again, “Actually yeah, that would be a good team up. Let me know if you need help.”

Duke allowed himself to do a tiny fist pump of victory.

Possible future team up! Yes!

~~~~~~

Lex hated charities.

Not because of the charity aspect, but because of the people aspect.

His only saving grace had been Timothy Drake-Wayne, recently.

“Ah, Mr. Drake-Wayne, how lovely to see you here.”

Timothy tilted his head to the side, and smiled brightly as he turned to face Lex.

Lex expertly dodged the cane that had just tried to swipe his legs out from under him.

“Mr. Luthor! I made it by just a hair, honestly. Traffic always gets insane around this time.”

Lex felt his smile turn feral.

“I agree, the cars lining up all the way back to Gotham are truly a sight to behold.”

“Ah, Mr. Luthor, everyone knows it’s only a car from a real Gothamite if the tires are bald from outrunning the Joker.”

Timothy’s smile had turned feral as well.

The people around them were shifting uncomfortably and edging away.

Good.

“Speaking of; the Joker might as well have designed this event, for how garish the decorations are. Truly, it is a blessing you cannot see it.”

“But Mr. Luthor, the open air concept is something I can get behind. It is a bit of a relief to feel the wind in my hair in the midst of such a crowded venue.”

They both took a sip of their respective drinks.

Indeed, their verbal spar was far more entertaining than the people around them.

~~~~~~

Tim whined, flailing his hand around until Bart gently placed an offering of crackers in it.

“But I don’t want crackers,” Tim sighed, eating the crackers.

“Sorry man, blame your immune system; that’s the only thing that’s staying down.”

Tim followed the suggestion, and blamed his shitty immune system.

“Is there a way to just…take a pill and grow a new spleen? Like in Star Trek?” Tim asked, demanding another offering of crackers with his grabby hands.

“Sorry dude, that never actually took off. The future kinda sucked.”

Tim allowed Cassie to hoist him into a sitting position and place the horsepill antibiotics in his hand.

“Come on, birdbrain, time to do some selfcare healthcare.”

Tim leaned away from Cassie and into Kon, silently begging his to save him from Cassie’s evil ways.

Kon laughed at him, the jerk.

“C’mon, Tim, take the pills.”

Tim cursed his lack of spleen.

~~~~~~

Bruce was on his best Brucie behavior at another gala, per his agreement with Tim.

“It’s just such a shame, such a shame,” Miss Lutz said for the fifteenth time, “such a bright young boy, and he had his future just stripped from him!”

“Indeed, he’ll be lucky if the board lets him stay on past this quarter,” Mr. Stephanz agreed, nodding vigorously, “Pity positions can’t compete in the real world of business, after all.”

Bruce frowned.

Bruce tuned his ears to focus on the people behind him.

All of it was variations about how unfortunate Tim was, how he was lucky the board let him keep his position, how his life was ruined , how he would never be able to excel in life or get married or any other number of inane things that didn’t matter.

Bruce tapped the champagne glass in his hand.

Tim had told him to be on his best Brucie behavior.

But Brucie did not behave.

The glass was promptly dumped on Miss Lutz, and the hand not holding it made a fist that landed squarely in Mr. Stephanz face.

Yes, this was perfectly in line with Brucie.

~~~~~~

Alfred drove in stony silence.

Bruce stared out the passenger window, avoiding the silence.

“I do hope,” the butler started, knuckles white on the wheel, “that you had a very good reason for making me pay bail to get The Bruce Wayne out of jail for assault .”

Bruce cleared his throat.

“Gotham High Society appears to be under the impression that Tim is incompetent. I just behaved as Brucie would.”

The silence returned.

“Then you will be pleased to know that on top of breaking Mr. Stephanz nose, you broke his jaw. He will need reconstructive surgery.”

Alfred was right. Bruce was pleased to know that.

~~~~~~

The alien invasion was a pain, especially when they resorted to EMPs to take out the hero’s tech.

Red Robin found himself supported by Green Arrow, who had immediately ditched his high ground to assist.

“How long does your tech need to reboot?” The older man asked, bow string snapping as he took out the snipers Red Robin couldn’t dodge.

“It’ll need about fifteen minutes for basic function, and I’m going to have to replace a few things to get the rest going,” Red Robin replied, laying into the aliens that got too close like an elderly woman beating dirt out of a rug.

“Need a pair of eyes while you wait?”

“Only the best.”

~~~~~~

Damian faced down his grandfather’s minions, back straight and no fear in his eyes.

Drake had faced them down with far less of an advantage, and he had won.

So Damian would win too.

There was no other option.

~~~~~~

When Tim had woken up to a vast canvas of blank nothing, he had thought that his world was over.

But as Tim donned his new hero moniker, he felt like his life was just getting started.

Rook walked into the streets of Gotham, head held high and cape flaring dramatically behind him, just the way he liked it.

#tim drake #blind tim au #fanfic #eye trauma tw #creepy ra's al ghul #batman #red robin #tim chooses a new moniker by the end #this was a monster #one shot #to live with honor and bravery series

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iriswords · 1 year

Text

Febuwhump Day 28 - “You’re safe now”

You can also read this on ao3 and find the rest of my febuwhump fics here

tw: graphic depiction of violence, mentions of death (and subsequent undeath)

Fandom: Batman (reverse robins au)

Words: 2135

Damian’s first reaction is to disbelieve his mother. It is a sign of how shocked he is because he trusts his mother with his whole heart. They’ve had disagreements in the past, but he now knows for certain that she loves him unconditionally. She would not lie about something so big. Not even if she were forced to.

That means Timothy is alive.

And yet, the first words that come out of his mouth are, “You’re lying.” His hand is white from how hard he grips his phone but he does not care. His mother has to be lying. There is no way what she is saying is true.

“I am not,” says Talia softly. “Timothy is alive, Damian. Some assassins spotted him in Gotham a couple of weeks ago, and Ra’s went to retrieve him. I called you as soon as I could.”

Timothy, alive. Damian didn’t attend the funeral. He hadn’t had the strength, as hypocritical as it had been of him. He spent so long hating this bright boy who had stolen his suit and his place in the family, and it took his death for Damian to realize that Timothy had not stolen anything at all. But at the time, Damian was blinded by jealousy and by anger coming from his stranded ties with his father.

Damian mourned Timothy from a distance. He didn’t know the boy all that well and wasn’t attached to him. The most they ever talked was when they argued and threw poisoned words at each other. To Damian, Timothy’s death rang more like a failure than like a wound.

It is over time that Damian learned to truly mourn him. After he reconciled with Bruce, Damian learned more about Tim than he ever had while the boy still lived. Damian got to know his brother through the memories of others and the pain in his father’s and grandfather’s eyes. After Jason came to live in the Manor, Damian took his role as an older brother seriously. Through it, he learned everything he had missed with Timothy.

“How is it possible?” asks Damian. The world spins around him and his mind reels from all the harm Timothy could be exposed to. A strangely protective feeling develops in his chest, one he has felt countless times toward Jason but never toward Timothy.

“I do not know,” answers his mother. “We have looked into his tomb. Everything indicates he crawled out of it.” Damian’s stomach churns. Timothy was long dead when they buried him. That can only mean that, for some reason, he woke up in his coffin. That he had to dig himself out. Damian cannot stop himself from imagining the scene. From the splinters embedding themselves in Timothy’s fingers to the dirt choking him. From his terror to his utter loneliness.

Damian wishes, suddenly, that he had gone to the grave in the past two weeks. He would have noticed, then, its desolated state. But would he have concluded that his brother woke up or would he have assumed someone stole his corpse?

“Ra’s forced him into the Lazarus Pit,” continues Talia. “His injuries are fully healed and he came out of his catatonic state this morning. He answered all my questions and I am fairly certain it is him and not a clone.”

“You want me to come and retrieve him.” Damian isn’t certain he is the best person for this role. Timothy would not be relieved at seeing him.

“Ra’s means to train him. You know how harsh this training is. Timothy may be healed and responsive, but he is no less a traumatized and lost child. Do you really want to leave him in the League? I will respect your choice if that is what you want, Habibi, but I know you.”

Damian knows she is right. He would never wish anyone to undergo League training. It is efficient, but it is also deeply traumatizing, and though Damian does not regret his origins and his upbringing, he knows how harmful it will be to Timothy. Bright, brilliant Timothy, so compassionate and insecure. Neglected by his parents and unloved by his only brother. Cunning and determined, too; he will survive Ra’s, Damian does not doubt it. But it will come at a price, and that price will be his innocence. His brightness. His love for the world, already so damaged by everyone who failed to love him properly.

“I’ll come,” he says.

Damian goes alone. He does not tell his father that Tim is alive. He does not tell anyone. He still has doubts about the reality of this coming back to life, no matter how much he trusts his mother, and he does not want to shatter his father. One death was enough.

He leaves under the pretense of paying a visit to his mother. It is not entirely false, and the event is not uncommon; over the years, as Damian’s relationship with his mother strengthened, he visited her several times, usually out of Nanda Parbat.

His mother waits for him at Nanda Parbat’s entrance. Damian hasn’t come back to the city in many years. It has been even longer since he saw his grandfather in person. In dreams, the man often haunts him. Some days, he even whispers in Damian’s ear. But the two have not met since Damian left the League at age ten.

Anxiety curls in Damian’s stomach at the thought of seeing his grandfather again but he ignores it. Ra’s is a threat and so are the rest of the assassins residing in the League’s stronghold at the moment. But Damian can best every single one of them individually and he knows many will obey him and his mother rather than Ra’s. Damian may not want anything to do with the League, but in the minds of many, he remains the Heir. With Ra’s reign wearing out, the assassins growing more and more tired of his endless cruelty and uncertainty it brings, Damian knows he is not in much danger in the League stronghold.

Talia and Damian, mother and son, slip into the stronghold silently, like old times. The building is achingly familiar to Damian, a remnant of his childhood he will never be able to let go of. Assassins bow their head as they pass Talia and Damian, their eyes trailing them with unmasked curiosity or riveted to the ground in learned respect.

“He’s in the training room,” whispers an assassin to Talia as they pass by her.

Damian’s mother thanks them with a nod, and the two of them turn to the next corner. They do not talk as they walk ever nearer to the training room. Whatever happens today, Damian knows his mother will bear the consequences. He does not dare ask her if she has planned to leave the League, too, too afraid of her answer. He wants to tell her she is always welcome in Gotham, but he doubts she wants to live there.

The training room’s door has been left open. Damian remembers from his childhood how Ra’s loved to offer a show to all the passersby whenever Damian was getting punished or when Ra’s knew Damian would fail to beat his opponent. The open door does not bode well for what is happening or going to happen.

Damian and Talia stop at the threshold. Ra’s turns his back to them, blissfully unaware of their presence. Timothy kneels before him, his head bowed and his shirt off. His back is marred with bloodied cane marks.

Anger swells in Damian but he reigns it in. Not yet. Not yet but soon, he promises himself and Timothy.

Around Timothy and Ra’s stands a circle of assassins, all of them masked and wearing similarly neutral expressions. Talia walks into the room first. Ra’s does not acknowledge her until she stops beside her.

“Ah, wonderful of you to join us, my daughter,” says Ra’s. “You’ll be Timothy’s first opponent.

Damian watches, his sword drawn and ready to use, as his mother bows her head in seeming agreement. The next second, she explodes in movement and goes for the nearest assassin. Damian immediately follows her and joins the fight. The assassins are skilled, but half of them fold to their knees in surrender before Damian even reaches them and the other half is no match for Talia’s and Damian’s abilities.

Throughout it all, Ra’s does not move. Damian can feel his grandfather’s eyes on him but, as always, he is more content with observing than with fighting himself. He much prefers to kill his enemies slowly, while looking them in the eyes once they’ve thought they won. But Damian knows he will win today.

Finally, when the assassins are either kneeling in surrender and acceptance of Damian’s authority or dead on the floor, Damian turns to his grandfather. Timothy kneels between the two of them, tense as a wire and shaking.

“Grandfather,” Damian greets coolly. His mother comes to stand by his side, and Ra’s lips pull into a derisive snarl. “How nice of you to inform me you recovered my brother,” continues Damian. He does not miss the way Tim’s head perks up slightly at the word.

“Your brother, you say? My informants must have been mistaken, then, for I thought you did not care for this boy. None of them saw you at his funeral.”

“That does not change anything to the fact that Timothy is family and I will never allow the League to touch my family.”

Ra’s takes a threatening step toward Tim, his hand going for the dagger at his hip. “And yet I am the one who found him and healed him. If you do not want me to touch him, then I will have to restore him to his original state.”

Damian does not hesitate. He leaps before he can think, stepping aside Timothy and lunging at his grandfather. Ra’s is strong and skilled. He has been training for lifetimes, whereas Damian is only in his twenties. But it does not matter. Ra’s is too arrogant, and he too often underestimates his opponent. Damian is no exception to that rule.

They fight, dirty and bloody. Damian drops his sword and favors his dagger, and he draws as much blood from his grandfather as his grandfather draws from him. He lunges, leaps, dodges, blocks, and parries with all the strength and skill he has honed over the years. He musters all his cleverness and all his desperation, his desire to bring Timothy back home. When Ra’s disarms him, Damian effortlessly picks up his dropped sword and keeps going.

They dance around Timothy, Talia, and the assassins for a while, neither managing to overpower the other. Finally, Damian presses the tip of his sword to his grandfather’s throat. His arm quivers slightly from exhaustion, but he keeps his grip firm.

“Give me one reason not to kill you today,” he tells his grandfather. Before today with the assassins, Damian had not killed in years. For his brother, he would put aside all and any rule concluded with his father.

Ra’s smiles ruefully. “I have none to give,” he says, and he probably thinks Damian will spare him, or that he will be transported to the Pit in time. But Damian is tired of the threat his grandfather constantly poses to Damian’s loved ones. He is keenly aware of Timothy still kneeling behind him, hurt and trembling. Vivid cane marks flash before Damian’s eyes, and he draws back his sword to swing it.

Warm blood splashes against Damian’s face and he watches with dispassionate eyes as his grandfather crumples to the ground, choking on the blood oozing out of his slit throat. A high-pitched keen rises in the air from behind Damian.

Damian whirls around to face Timothy and drops his sword when his brother violently flinches back. He crouches down in front of his brother and looks at his brother’s face for the first time in more than a year. Timothy has not aged. He is skinnier, and his eyes bear the haunted shadows of trauma, but he still looks just as young as he did before he died.

“Damian?” he asks in a tiny voice, and Damian recognizes in that voice the boy who constantly doubted his place in the world.

“It’s me,” answers Damian. “You’re safe now. Ra’s won’t hurt you anymore, I promise you.”

Timothy’s eyes frantically searched his face. “And the Joker?”

“Dead,” replies Damian grimly. Father didn’t know before the act was done, and he barely disapproved when he learned of it.

Timothy’s face crumples at Damian’s answer, and he throws himself at his brother. Damian catches him in a firm grip. It is the first time he hugs Timothy.

“It’s okay,” he repeats. “It’s alright. You’re safe, now, and I’m bringing you home.”

@febuwhump

#my writing #creative writing #fanfic #fanfiction #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday28 #reverse robins #graphic depitions of violence #tim drake #damian wayne #hurt tim drake #tim drake whump #dc #batman #batfamily

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meritatem · 9 months

Text

Being back at Wayne Manor was like revisiting a secluded place he spent some time in his youth. Safe, practical.

Being back at the penthouse was like arriving at his childhood home, the only true one he ever knew. Nostalgic, happy.

The short time Damian lived in the penthouse was - pathetically - the best era of his life. Things were so easy in those days, as absurd as it sounded given the kind of life he was leading. He was so carefree back then, so busy trying to live to the expectations of an imaginary Bruce Wayne that could be pleased - unlike the real one -, learning what it meant to be a someone and not a something, guided by Dick's understanding hand and experiencing the joys of a purpose he chose and not something imposed on him.

Such good memories. Damian only wished he relished in those moments more, because unknown to him at the time, that would be the first and the last time he knew real peace.

The bright side was that, given how busy Damian was with, well, everything, he didn't have enough time to chase the ghosts of happier days.

And that's how Tim found him: testing the stability of the Batmobile midair in the bunker. Not like he felt it needed assessment, but he had to look like he was following standard procedure and not just magically knowing what to do without fail. As soon as the Batmobile was on the ground, Damian jumped out of it, feeling immediately suspicious about Tim's proximity, because these past days they had been seeing each other more out of necessity but both of them made efforts to maintain their distance, however even at a distance he could perfectly hear every jab Drake threw at him while he was talking to others.

“So,” said Tim with arms crossed. “It really flies.”

“Your observational skills are so keen.” He was done with being “the bigger person”, if Timothy was going to be a petty teenager, then Damian was going to be a petty child, balance in the universe and all that.

“I don't need them to know this is ridiculous. Very overkill, but then again that's your style, isn't it?”

“Should I remind you this is my father's idea?”

The way Tim frowned was the only sign he gave of annoyance. “We don't know what his plans were for this but you're wasting time, we don't need it.”

“You're so optimistic, I almost envy you. Grayson is going to need all the help he can get and if you have any religious inclination, this is the time to start praying.”

“You really think we are stupid,” and he let out a fake laugh, just for effect. “Do you believe for a second we're going to use this? A machine under your control?”

“You're free to examine it to the last bolt, I'm not being nefarious.”

“And we're going to trust you because, what? Scout's honor?”

“No, because I have nothing to gain if you or Grayson get hurt.”

“Like the League could let pass the opportunity of getting rid of us. I bet Ra's would be happy to have one less obstacle in his way.”

“This will not help my case but if I wanted you dead, you'd already be. Why would I put so much effort in this if my end goal was to destroy it when there's easier methods?”

“Who knows what a little psycho like you thinks? I wouldn't be surprised if this is your twisted way of having fun.”

Damian was less bothered and more intrigued at this whole exchange because it was Drake the one who sought him out and whatever he was trying to get from this interaction, Damian had more important things to do than pay attention to his games. It was also a great teaching moment, if one could call it that.

“All right, let's have a conversation.” He said, straightening his posture and putting his hands behind his back. “When I was five my mother made me climb in The Himalayas and I broke my wrist. Drake, are you following?” And he gave special emphasis to each of his next points. “I was five years old, I broke my wrist while trying to reach the summit of a frozen mountain and I was punished for being too slow. Do you honestly believe I enjoyed it?” He remained silent for a few moments so that his words were properly assimilated. “I'm sure you've seen dog fighting rings before, do you think those dogs like it there?”

Damian couldn't really be sure what effect his words had but from the way Tim opened his mouth as if to say something and then immediately closed it, he could at least tell Drake was actually pondering about them.

“I'm not ashamed to say I'm doing this for my own benefit, the institution my father established with Batman is the only thing standing between my mother and me. This is my keep and if it falls, there would be only frozen mountains for me,” and it was true in a way: saving Alfred, protecting Grayson, even working with Drake, it was all for Damian's selfish reasons because he considered these disastrous people his family. “I don't care what you think of me but at least judge me for the choices I'm making here.”

In the past Damian used to complain about how useless he found Tim to be in general, how ill-fitted he was to form part of his father's allies and some part of him even believed those things, but the truth had always been that Drake was as good as any of his father's mentees and seeing the way he slipped into his vigilante persona now that Damian knew the tells was close to charming: detached, calm, in control. Damian almost felt proud.

“You know,” he said in a conversationally tone. “When you rescue dogs from the ring, sometimes you have to sacrifice them because they're beyond help.”

That statement was so brazen that Damian could only laugh. “You're not even going to attempt rehabilitation with me first. Ruthless, Drake. I can respect that.”

One of Damian's unverified theories was that Alfred had some kind of sixth sense: he always seemed to appear at the least expected but more appropriate moments, like he did just now: clearing his throat to announce his presence, tray in hand with a bottle of the cold tea that Damian favored these days and offended so much the butler's sensibilities.

“Master Tim, how good to see you,” he said not giving any sign he heard their conversation. “Can I offer you something? I'll bring it in a minute.”

“It's alright, Alfred, I was leaving anyway, I have things to discuss with Dick.”

“Very well, I'll see you both at dinnertime.”

Tim nodded in agreement and took two steps before it seemed like he thought about it twice and turned around. “I still don't trust any of this, you don't fool me.”

And so they watched in silence as Tim walked away while Damian took the bottled tea, breaking the cap seal and taking a good sip.

“Are you really sure my father doesn't have any more children?” He asked apropos nothing.

“Not that I know of.”

“Good. We already have enough with these ones, they're such a handful.”

“They sure are, sir.”

Of course it wasn't lost on Damian the meaningful look that Alfred directed towards him.

Colin's reaction at having a proper hideout - at least the beginnings of one - made Damian felt even more guilty for just giving him a garage and calling it a day.

What made it somehow worst is that he originally wasn't even looking for a base to share with Colin, he just stumbled on the building's potential while he was looking for something else in his father's database. Being a bad friend was low in the long list of Damian's offenses but it didn't mean he was not going to prioritize it in this second time around.

“No One, I'm done!”

Colin's loud proclamation somewhere in the entrance of the room made Damian snap of his contemplations. And wasn't that amusing? Colin was left under the impression that “No One” was actually Damian's moniker; not that surprising coming from someone that chose “Abuse” for a name.

No One and Nobody. Maya would've had so much fun with that, she would've had called him her sidekick and probably suggested he color coordinated with her... ah, every so often thoughts like that made Damian wish he could cry for his losses.

“Good job,” he said instead, stretching his arms just for show before turning the chair he was in, in front of a modest computer system. “I'll finish setting this tomorrow.”

Damian wasn't sure if his father wanted for this little deserted clock factory to be a stash house but it had enough foundations to change it to whatever he wanted it to be. It didn't hurt he also had someone more than happy to do the heavy lifting, literally speaking.

“We're coming back tomorrow?”

“If you're able. There's still a lot to do to make this place fully functional.”

“Really? It looks fine to me.”

“If you think this shoddy hole is fine, Batman's headquarters would make you faint.”

“You've been at Batman's place?” Even if Colin was in his Abuse persona, the childish enthusiasm in his voice was clear. “No way! Did he take you in the Batmobile?”

“He did and he even put a blindfold on me.” And just because he knew Colin would find it funny, he added. “So lame.”

And Colin indeed laughed a little, proceeding to sit in the floor, cross-ledged. “It's not lame!” he defended, always loyal to his hero. “His base is one of the more important places in the world, he needs to be careful.” The wishful expression in his face was unmistakable. “It must be great working with him and Robin.” And he sighed, looking a little pensive. “That reminds me that I told you my story but you never told me yours.”

The first time they met, circumstances made useless things like secret identities; Colin figured out pretty easily that Damian was Robin and Damian saw with his own eyes the kind of powers Colin had. This time around things were less straightforward. It took days and days of work - as in beating thugs together - and Damian sharing the location of an authentic hideout for Colin to finally confide a little about himself. He told Damian about the Scarecrow, about how Batman saved him and why he decided to use his newfound powers to help others, but he didn't tell Damian his name or his living situation. Maybe he was testing him, because if Damian really was a close ally of Batman, he could ask him about that incident with Scarecrow.

Or maybe he was waiting for Damian to take off his mask and tell him his name first. Whatever was the case, Damian didn't see the need to do that if it wasn't the result of natural progression. He viewed the knowledge he had about the people surrounding him like optional guidelines, not a manipulative tool to be perceived more favorably.

“Is not that interesting. Batman and Robin saved me too. I was...” And he pondered a little how much truth was too much. “...raised in a cult of assassins.”

Back in the day Damian used to be very nonchalant about his past as an assassin, because he was proud. He completed every and each one of his mother's demands, surpassed the highest expectations, survived the lowest odds and conquered the most brutal quests. It cost Damian so much pain, of course he was proud.

But the pride of being an assassin died long ago, only everything else remained.

“I was trained to be one of the best because one day they'll need a substitute for their leader. I escaped and came to Gotham, Batman saw I needed help and let me stay.” And for a moment he almost didn't continue, reluctant to confess more even if it was to someone he knew wouldn't judge him too harshly. “I've done horrible things but Robin's existence taught me about redemption. I can save people, catch them when they need it, because someone caught me when I didn't know I was falling.”

The first time Damian told Colin about his past as an assassin, it was in a very dismissing way, just like he did with Jon. And maybe just like Jon didn't grasp the extent of his transgressions at the beginning, Colin surely didn't think too much about the ugly truth Damian's past encompassed.

It seemed that Damian was still underestimating others, even the ones he considered friends and family, because what Colin said next after a short silence was something he wasn't expecting of him.

“Someone told me that there's no bad kids, just kids in bad places, with bad adults and when you're a kid, you shouldn't blame yourself for the things that happen to you. That's why we need to grow up to be good adults, you know? Be like the ones we want to take care of kids like us.”

At ten Colin had so much more wisdom that Damian with all his knowledge of arts, philosophy and war could even begin to appreciate at that age. His mother wholly failed where some nuns didn't even try that hard, but his mother wanted a conqueror and a tyrant, not a normal, healthy child.

Even now, with all the additional knowledge Damian had, he couldn't help but feel like there was so much he still had to learn from Colin and truly, a part of him wanted to refute those words, to tell him that Damian has always been rotten to the core even as a child, but it would be a disservice to kids like Colin and even the one Damian once was; hating on himself was so much comfortable when he wasn't dragging others with him.

“Now everything makes so much sense.” He continued, happily unaware of Damian's internal struggles.

“What does?”

“The way you fight, those cool moves and the sword! You never use it but it's totally a ninja sword.”

“Tt! I'm not something as pedestrian as a ninja.”

“You're not a samurai, you use smoke bombs.”

“Batman uses them too, is he a ninja then?”

“You can't define Batman, he's too amazing for that.”

It became clear for Damian, given the mirth in the redhead's voice, relaxed posture and affable smile, that Colin was trying to make fun of him. He didn't need knowledge from another life to understand this was Colin offering the first tentative step to a friendship despite Damian's revelations, or maybe because of them; either way he was aware of what a gift this was, offered by pure chance twice to him now.

From all the things Damian had lost, he was so grateful to have this one back.

Just like he said he would do the first time they talked in the Batcave, Drake kept an eye on Damian, but he was years away to catch him out of line, and all the commotion from moving to the penthouse and the preparations for the new Dynamic Duo weren't helping him to discover his machinations. There was also the fact that Damian had on his side the most powerful resource in his father's arsenal: Pennyworth. Without his help Damian's latest endeavor would've taken much more time and effort.

So here he was, waiting on his third attempt to synthetize what he took the habit of satirically calling a “hangover cure”, because when he perfected it, he was alone in a bleak future where things like proper names were useless when he had no one to tell.

It was such a ridiculous scene too, with Damian sitting with his feet up in a chair too big for him, the manga he bought weeks ago in hands, waiting for the machine to finish with the formula he was trying to concoct, while Alfred was walking somewhere behind him with a feather duster and actually using it; all of that at two in the morning in the bat-bunker. To add to the absurdity, he was actually engrossed in the story of the manga. It was hard not to, when the protagonist was a teenager doing the things she was expected to do: having good grades, hanging out with her friends, going out with her boyfriend, all while feeling dispassionate about everything... until she found the world of painting. In a way, it made Damian think of himself a little.

But his discovery of relatable fictional characters was put to a halt when the computer announced that the process was done. He carefully scrutinized the results in the computer screen in front of him, only to read it twice after he finished the first time. As soon as he was sure of the result, he jumped from the seat and rushed to the processor meant for vaccines and all sorts of antidotes. He took the crystal tube from the only slot being used and examined the liquid inside: it was that clear shade of red, the one that made him think what rubies would look like if they were liquid the first time he saw it. There was no doubt about it, this was it.

“People usually say that the smile of a child is a beautiful and innocent sight,” said Alfred, who approached Damian after seeing the abrupt way he abandoned his spot. “If I'm honest, I'm feeling rather unnerved about it.”

He was smiling from ear to ear, all white sharp teeth and probably looking a bit maniacally. “It's the canines' fault. I'm sure they're one of the genetic alterations my mother made.” The explanation wasn't necessary, but Damian couldn't help it, he was feeling elated enough to answer the most asinine things.

It wasn't like Damian was trying to make some experimental formula work, no, he already knew it was functional, but the materials in his previous attempts proved to be faulty. And now, after so much defeats, after taking one step forward and immediately two back, Damian had in his hands his first real triumph.

Finally, after so long, this was undeniable progress.

“Going by this display I must assume this time the result is right.”

“Correct. We did it, Pennyworth, half of the battle is won.”

“Claiming victory too soon has been the fall of many generals.”

“I was once called Alexander, even if I lost this battle, the war will be mine.”

Hearing such serious words from such a small child was a whimsical experience, even if he knew full well that Damian wasn't joking one bit. “At times like this you remind me of Master Bruce.”

“I would prefer if I remind you of myself, my father's shoes are too big to fill them. That's why it's a good thing I have my own.”

Alfred closed his eyes momentarily, letting his thoughts drift towards memories he held dear; reminiscences of Thomas, Martha and a little Bruce. When he opened his eyes, nothing in his expression betrayed anything unusual.

“Indeed it is and I eagerly await to see what kind of shadow you'll cast, Master Damian.”

⪻Chapter 6

Chapter 8⪼

#f.r.w.#chap7

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dairy-farmer · 6 months

Note

Okay but re-reading the Ra's part of the Timeloop ask I sent? And the part you wrote? Oh... On No(tm) this man's out here dead set on being a BAD Idea Boyfriend.

Gonna seduce Timothy with his cock. KNOWS he has absolutely no chance of convincing him to Join Him with the usual flowers, dancing, and casual dating approaches for romance... soooo.... Wanna See Him Naked, Detective? *evil sexy eyebrow quirk* *is shirtless and on a throne Just Cause doing his best Slutty wide legged gonna conquer everything sit*

Like? Come on~ make a TERRIBLE life choice. Give him ONE(1!) Chance to rock your world so hard it ruins you forever. He has a multi-step plan. He just needs to pump your guts so good you permanently associate the concept of pleasure with HIM. THEN? You'll feel compelled to return..

It's always "just one more time", isn't it? Detective. Always "this is the LAST time". Stubborn, proud men like Timothy are so WEAK to pleasure, aren't they~? Pain they can handle. But pleasure? That addicts them.

He just needs an opening. Just ONE misstep. A low moment. Some time when Timothy's hunger for warmth outways his rightful caution of Ra's. And? All things are inevitable, if you are patient enough. Especially if you tilt the odds by hand.

Maybe he shows off the goods. Is shirtless more often then he has been in years. Low cut poet shirts and impressive capes. Tight, tight pants. Oh isn't it DISTRACTING, Detective? You aren't having THOUGHTS you won't admit too, aaaare you? Eyes CERTAINLY aren't lingering a bit too long~

Ra's has done this before and he'll do it again. CENTURIES is a word people keep using but honestly, they DO so fail to grasp what that MEANS. He has seduced THOUSANDS. And he's not even that hedonistic. He could have had far more.

He's faced off against genuine Femme Fatales. Homme Fatales. Battles of seduction and wit, daggers and poisons. Death in the night. Beautiful silks stained forever with the blood of their masters. He has nearly died more then once and come out stronger for it.

And? Like when the Bat was lost in time. Eventually his Detective WILL have to be in relatively close quarters with him again. Just close ENOUGH. The last time, he thought him cisgendered. Didn't realize his OPTIONS. Now? Now Ra's wants an HEIR out of him. Preferably a legion. They would be glorious.

But to GET that... first he needs to SEDUCE the Detective. Can't put offspring in a womb you haven't fucked. He ramps up his petty bullshit. TARGETED petty bullshit that will require Tim, specifically, too fix. He sword fights shirtless. Makes sure to subtly oil up a bit first. One MUST take care of their skin of course. It has NOTHING to do with the fact it will both perfume the air AND catch the light, drawing Timothy's attention to his muscles as they fight. Of course not.

Perish the THOUGHT, Detective~

And it eventually works. Because of course it does. Tim is stressed. Horny. Stressed AND horny. His life has gone to shit AGAIN. Everyone is fighting AGAIN. Everything hurts mentally, emotionally, and physically. And fuckin' Ra's is there... once AGAIN swanning around topless. All rippling abs and deep rumbling purr. Threats and word play. Posturing.

Telling him he'll GLADLY deactivate the bombs if Tim spends the night with him. Not even in his bed. Just... just in his company. Bastard being all assured and decadent and offering him food. And... and... Tim is so fucking tired. The thought of fighting of ninjas and swinging all over the place tonight sounds god awful.

His body hurts. HE hurts. He's hungry. Sore. Ra's is vaguely behaving. This room is warm and those seats look soft. That food looks good. Tim decides... "You know what? Fuck it. Why not." There are a LOT of reasons why not. Starting with "This is EXACTLY what Ra's wants" but? Tim is past caring.

He says sure. Ra's isn't even gloat-y about it. Just casually calls off the bombs. Tim should probably be pissed about that but... mmmm, food. He collapses into a chair instead. It's absurdly comfortable. The night is surreal. He gets fed. They talk about furniture as Tim tries to pry the chair makers name out of Ra's to no avail. Ra's gives him an honest to gods feet and hand massage.

It's... it's nice? Really nice. Relaxing even. Tim is suspicious. Not so much he DOESN'T take the deal again... but you know... suspicious.

And Ra's keeps feeding him. There's pleasant conversation about interesting things. Massaging of sore muscles. Hands that drift higher and higher. Lower and lower. Casually. And Tim is... is so WARM. Full belly, comfortably cradled by the various seats, muscles massaged loose.

Then he makes the mistake of getting SO used to this... he just starts showing up. Not changing into his RR suit first. Ra's is patient, but crows with victory in his mind. He waits until Tim is wearing a lovely suit. No particular day but not too soon into the change in behavior. Can't spook him, after all.

His fingers are lighter then any pickpocket's unbuckling the belt. The Detective of course still notices. Becomes more alert. Attention focusing. Ra's uses a move he's done countless times before. He cradles the Detective's head with one hand and plunders his mouth, even as his other slides like a thief down somewhere it should not be, to pay immediate and overwhelming attention to the heat below.

Tim jolts so hard it's nearly a thrash. But Ra's has caught has caught him off gaurd and does NOT intend to let him get his wits about him. He teases Tim breathless, confused and horny. Then his pants are GONE. Ra's is sliding with a dangerous grace to his knees between those powerful legs and hiking them up over his shoulders, spread wide.

Tim has just enough time to be confused before everything lights up, as an impossibly skilled mouth descends onto him. He'll never live down the sounds he makes. How quickly, EASILY, Ra's is able to drive him incoherent. Even before thick, calloused fingers slide in deep. Torment his best spots with ruthless accuracy.

Then Ra's is looming over him. Looking so damn PLEASED with himself. Tim should be furious. But all he can do is gasp for air and hold on as he's split APART. Big. So big. Ra's is whispering something filthy in a long dead language, watching his body take it with so much HUNGER on his face. Has anyone EVER wanted Tim this bad? He feels impaled.

The he's being taken APART. Hips the roll and grind, snap forward and pull slow. The rhythm keeps changing. Drawing out the pleasure but not letting it build enough to get Tim off. He thinks he starts crying. Can't seem to stop. Begs Ra's to just... to j-just let him get off. Please. PLEASE. Everything is so hot. Squelching and gushing and... and...

Ra's practically glows. Backlight by the ceiling lamps. Oil and sweat catching the light, coating his body. Unbearably focused on TIM. Looking and seeing and No Where To Hide. Exposed and conquered. Everything feeling so good. Tim's brain feels likes its short circuiting. He comes apart beneath Ra's. Then is made too again. And again. And again.

There's even a soft bed and fantastic breakfast in the morning. Tim refuses to fall for this.

He of course, falls for it. It's the best sex he's ever had. He's furious. Ra's is unrepentant and openly admits to his plans. Consent IS important, after all. Tim blows up several of his bases and then three days later? Him.

It takes all of five years of routinely threatening Gotham and then fucking the Detective incoherent for it to take. The Bat's eldest sends his lover after him. Wilson is a formidable opponent but sadly, they are unable to finish their duel. As the Detective has come to kill him, himself. The usual response. His lovers are rarely the sort to appreciate being made pregnant. They tend to demand satisfaction and his head on a spine.

As equally usual, he is able to convince the Detective of why he is more useful alive. He has a very persuasive tounge. The Kryptonians sent after him though? Those are a bother. Apparently his grandson sends his regards. Well played.

tim gives into Ra's once and it absolutely messes with his ability to remain impartial and fight ra's because he's just remembering how good ra's made him feel 😩😩😩😩. tim is just human afterall and its not like dick or bruce had any leg to stand on about tim sleeping with the enemy given their own histories.

tim is furious with ra's for being good at sex and making it so he often gets all weak-kneed around him now and he HATES his pussy for getting so attatched to ra's and just automatically getting wet at the sight or sound of him.

it's so obvious what ra's wants when fucking him (aside from just fucking tim) and tim falls for it every single time thinking nothing will happen. but then 5 years after he's started sleeping with ra's, tim messes up with his birthcontrol somehow or maybe all those creampies finally caought up with him because birth control is only SO effective- and tim is pregnant. he's several weeks along and if it had been five years earlier tim would've dealt with it without a shred of remorse.

but...now tim is older and more sentimental and...he's been thinking of leaving the caped business behind for awhile....and being the mother to ra's al ghul's child means tim's baby will have built-in round-the-clock monitoring and babysitting courtesy of the various shadows ra's sends his way to watch over his newest heir. well...if he lives long enough considering the look on his friends and family's faces when he told them he was pregnant and retiring.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #rastim

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avanalae · 2 years

Text

Green (Just Leave Me)

I wonder how many of you remember this. I wonder if this will even be seen. 🤔 So if any of you happen to remember this ‘verse, I have a surprise for you! An update!! (I know, holy shit.) Was going through my fic folder(s) bc I’m trying to write more after dealing with a ton of health crap that put a lot of my creative endeavors on hold. Saw this one. Thought about it. Decided to give it a shot. And here we are! 😃 It’s not long (tho I made an effort to make it as long as I could), but hopefully more will follow. Before another few years pass, at least. We’ll see.

If you check this out on AO3, you’ll see that the whole fic was updated. I went back and touched things up (considering just how long ago I started this fic…) but I’m only gonna update the AO3 version. So, check it out there if you’re gonna read it from the beginning. ☆

___

Title: Green Verse: Just Leave Me Fandom: DCU (Not DCnU! Turn your mind back in time with me) Character(s): Tim Drake, Ra’s al Ghul, Alfred, Jason, Bruce, Dick, Damian Pairing: None (for now 👀) Rating: G+ Wordcount: 2073 Warnings: Story-typical feels. Ra’s. 👀

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READ THIS ON AO3

Part 1 (AO3|T) ● Part 2 (AO3|T) ● Part 3 (AO3|T)

Ra’s rubs his thumb over the printed text on simple paper. “I see, so this was everything?” He glances over at the few things the ninjas brought with them, having taken them from the apartment under his instruction after they contacted him when they saw it dark. He’d been very curious after not hearing from his favorite menace for a while, and things seem to be much more interesting than he anticipated.

The paper simply says, “Goodbye.” It was left in the printer, seemingly just left there after having been printed. How unusual for the detective.

“There was evidence of something else, though. It was difficult to notice at first, but it seems the building was recently inhabited for a time by a…” his shadow hesitates, but quickly continues when Ra’s raises an eyebrow, “A cat, my lord.”

“A cat…”

The shadow nods, “After a thorough inspection, facts seem to line up in a way that makes it feasible that this cat might have been the one to shut down the building.”

Ra’s feels quite the spark of intrigue, “How fascinating. If this is the case, was my dear detective perhaps turned into a cat?”

“There shall be a report soon about recent villain attacks and altercations in Gotham very soon. I’ve sent several people to investigate.”

“Excellent,” Ra’s hums, “I will expect the Bats’ recent movements, as well.” The white shadow nods, and the ancient man can’t help but chuckle as he folds up the note. “I wonder what you’ve been up to, dear Timothy.”

Tim has been feeling uneasy, recently. He spends more time napping in the cave in the hopes of hearing anything that might explain this feeling, but nothing comes of it. There seems to be an increase in villain activity, but it’s not an unusual thing. Crime always picks up after the holidays, after all.

He considers taking a look himself, but he can’t talk himself into dealing with the sheer trouble it would be to even try.

So, Tim continues to enjoy his time with his family. He lets Dick hold him more often and listens as he complains about being so busy, dealing with both Gotham and Bludhaven. Damian isn’t one to complain, but Tim is more often allowed to stay with him when he spends time drawing in his room or tucked in different corners and windowsills. Alfred and Bruce don’t act much differently, but the one who stands out is Jason.

Right now, it’s another of his and Alfred’s tea-times. The rest of the family is out on patrol, which is what Jason prefers. They seem to be getting along alright these days, or at least seem to be tolerating each other, but Jason doesn’t seem very interested in mending bridges beyond that. Tim doesn’t blame him, even if he hopes they eventually can make amends.

Alfred is off making the tea while Jason makes himself comfortable in the little nook next to the kitchen. Tim is curled up on the table, even if he knows Alfred will be shooing him off when he comes back with the snacks. He’s too interested in enjoying the full-handed head rubs that Jason gives him. The older man chuckles and squishes his face, but it doesn’t hurt and isn’t too uncomfortable, so he just makes a grumpy noise. After another laugh, Jason releases him and returns to his gentler pets.

“You’re such an odd one, Sammers.” The only person he could imagine butchering the name “Salem” like this would be Jason. It’s ridiculous but Tim can’t bring himself to dislike it. “You’re almost as fun to tease as…” Tim is suddenly alert when Jason trails off, his face falling.

After a moment of Jason looking kind of dazed, Tim rubs his head against the unmoving hand. This gets his attention again, and he scratches behind soft ears. “Sorry, Sale. Lost it for a second there, didn’t I?” Tim licks his palm, hoping to encourage him to continue. “Just thinking about a brat that you haven’t met. Something was up and for some reason, I haven’t seen him in ages. I’m definitely not worried, but I am hella curious about what might have happened.”

Startled, Tim doesn’t know how to react to that. Unfortunately, Alfred appears before he can think it through, and he’s shooed off the table. Instead of sticking around, he wanders off in a daze.

Could Jason have been talking about Tim?

He wanders the house with no destination in mind. His mind won’t quiet down, and he does his best to sort it out as he pads down the halls. He wonders and thinks, but in the end he lets it go.

Perhaps if Jason had been more upfront about it, it would linger in his mind more. But the offhanded way he mentioned it and lack of information, he can’t hold onto it long. If it comes up again, maybe it’ll be something to think about.

But Tim is still tired, and he doesn’t want to deal with it. Doesn’t want to deal with any implication that might make his decision waver. He wants to avoid anything he can pass of as insubstantial or inconsequential so he can continue his life here.

He doesn’t want to doubt.

He just wants to live like this, now.

So, he lets the thought go, making his way down to the cave to nap on the computer until someone comes back from patrol.

Tim is sure he had been in the kitchen waiting for Alfred to come home with groceries. The man had promised him some salmon if he was patient and Tim was definitely willing to wait for such a treat. He’d never been very interested in fish before turning into a cat, preferring chicken or pork, but becoming a cat changes your priorities in more ways than you’d think.

For some reason, however, he seems to be waking up in an unfamiliar place. It’s colder, for one thing, and the surface he’s on is very soft, when he’s sure he’d dozed off on the table in a comfortable sunbeam.

Then he realizes an odder sensation, when he tries to open his eyes. He feels… flow. Drowsy. IF he’d been human, he’d wonder if he’d been… drugged…?

His eyes open wide at the realization, but the rest of his body is slow to respond. His vision is blurry and he can’t make out anything when he turns to where he hears a soft noise. After blinking and rubbing at his eyes as best he can when feeling so weak, his eyes eventually clear.

Where…?

It’s a simple room, but lavishly decorated in odd ways. The walls are painted bright red and several tapestries are hung around. He looks up and sees colorful fabrics draped along and hanging from a frame above him, encircling a large, round… bed? He reaches a paw out and presses on the surface he lies on. It’s definitely a mattress, though far softer than ones he’s familiar with. The bedding and fabrics are in shades of red, green, silver, and gold. Beyond them, he sees a sparse room, with little else in the way of furniture.

With his inhibited mind, it takes until he looks out the large windows to realise where he is.

The large windows are sealed with thick looking but incredibly clear glass, and show a finely landscaped garden that he’d only seen once before. Unwillingly.

It spurs him into action, but the lack of energy works against him. Not just that, but the bed is so soft that he struggles to get his feet under him. This- Is this intentional? He can’t put it past the man, and his heart rate starts to pick up, his situation suddenly crashing down on him.

At that moment, the only door in the room, hidden partially by one of the tapestries, opens.

“Detective.”

Any steadiness leaves him, and he unwillingly settles back down onto soft blankets.

Footsteps slowly approach, “You do get into the most interesting situations, don’t you?”

He feels faint. His stomach is churning.

Green and gold walks into his line of sight, the familiar green cape open to show more casual attire. His eyes are pulled up by something unknown, and his first thought is the rather banal curiosity of just how recently he went to the pit.

“I was never very interested in animals, but I’ll admit – only to you, my dear – that I think I could now be called a… Ah, yes, a ‘cat person.’”

Ra’s.

He was in the hands of Ra’s al Ghul.

“Alfred, what’s wrong?” Bruce asks after patrol. Damian had gone to bed and Dick returned to Bludhaven, so it was quiet for the time being. But his dear butler had a troubled look on his face.

“Nothing, I hope, Master Bruce.” Alfred takes the suit from him for mending, Bruce having gotten slightly nicked by a lucky thug with a knife. “Or dear Salem has disappeared again. It is odd, because I believe he was aware I would be returning with something for him.”

Bruce can’t help his own frown, “That’s unusual. He’s very well behaved when it comes to food.” He pauses in thought, “Almost worryingly so.”

“Hm, I believe whoever cared for him before us did a lackluster job,” Alfred comments with a deeper frown. Bruce sighs and nods in agreement. “Regardless, that is why I’m a bit concerned. He is a free spirit, however, so I will try not to worry too much.”

“Yeah, sounds good, Alfred.” Bruce rests a hand on a thin shoulder, “Keep me updated. We’ll keep an eye out tomorrow and hopefully he’ll be back by then.”

Alfred nods, folding the costume into an easier bundle to carry, “Of course, Master Bruce.”

Three days pass and now every Bat is worried. Salem hasn’t returned and after a day of searching, no clues have been found. Not even a single pawprint that could lead anywhere. It was if he had disappeared into thin air.

This is a great cause of concern for them, as after months of living with the creature, they’re aware of Salem’s habits and quirks. The cat is far too attached to them to leave, and he’s never done something like hiding his tracks. Granted, if he disappears into the city on one of his excursions, it’s easy to lose him, but that’s not unusual.

He’s also returned within a day every time up until now.

Dick rushed back from Bludhaven the evening after he disappeared, when Bruce had sent him a notice about the situation. Currently he’s pacing back and forth on the mats in the Batcave, mumbling to himself. Damian, when he looks over, looks about 30 seconds away from impaling Dick with the blade he’s sharpening. A firm look makes sure he won’t, but he understands that Dick’s pacing isn’t helping anyone.

“Dick,” Bruce calls, “if you need to work out that energy, get on the bars.”

“No! I want to go out and look for him!” Dick protests, crossing his arms as he turns to Bruce.

“It’s too dark, you wouldn’t be able to find him.”

“How do you know?” Bruce looks over his shoulder, away from the screen he’s been staring at for too long, and gives Dick a look. The man sinks in on himself and sighs, upset, “Yeah, okay. Sorry. I’m just worried.”

“I know,” he consoles, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his eyes, “None of us are unconcerned, but panicking and rushing things won’t do us any good.”

Dick plops himself down on the mats with another, deeper sigh. Damian stops holding his very sharp blade so tightly, now that the man has stopped.

Just when Bruce is contemplating between going back to the computer or going out on an actual patrol, there’s a notice from the garage and soon they hear the rumbling of a motorcycle. Standing, he allows himself a moment to stretch before heading over. “Computer says Jay,” he comments, and Dick springs up to follow.

Jason is parked by the time they reach him, and he quick to take of his helmet. There’s no time for pleasantries, however, as he looks over to the two of them with a dark look on his face that stops them in their tracks.

“I have some bad news, and I’m almost positive it’s related to Salem.”

#ava fics #fanfiction #batman #red robin #Tim Drake #Just Leave Me verse #DCU #Pre-DCnU #cat!Tim #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne

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drawingconclusions · 1 year

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THE COVENANT SCHOOL TRAGEDY

I'm always at a loss for words in the midst of tragedies like these that struck the private Christian school in Nashville this past week. What's more, statistics tell us there have already been more than a hundred mass shootings in America in 2023. But the innocent loved ones you lost are more than just statistics, more than just a number. So much more. They are beloved sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, close friends and mentors. It's true, many of us lost friends and relatives during the pandemic, but it's always difficult to hear someone try to tell you they know exactly what you're going through, especially when you're grieving someone lost due to the senseless violence of a mass shooting.

So I'm not here to tell you today that I know exactly how you feel right now. It's nearly impossible for me to do that. It's difficult for you to see or think through your tears right now. And getting through the heartache of losing those dear to you will be a process. Don't try to do it alone. Find a trusted shoulder to cry on. Get help if you need it. And although all the hurt and pain is still so fresh in your heart and it may seem almost callous of me to say this, please make a conscious decision to eventually forgive. Don't let evil win by holding on to bitterness. Resentment will slowly drain your life, cloud your thinking, and gnarl you on the inside, keeping you from God's best for your life.

And as difficult as it may be to accept right now, God still does have a plan for your life. You may falsely accuse God of being responsible for letting your loved ones be taken from you, but He's still there waiting to embrace you, though you may push Him away. Jesus himself knew what it was like to lose a loved one at the hands of injustice. I've previously mentioned this passage before, but my focus is a bit different this time. In Matthew 14:1-14, we read how evil king Herod had John the Baptist (Jesus' relative) killed. Verse 13 says, "When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place." (NIV) It doesn't say what Jesus did as he grieved. I'm sure He prayed about all the hurt He was feeling. I'm sure He shed so many tears over the loss of his close relative. But due to the high demand on Jesus' time and person, within one verse, He had already returned to ministering to the masses that had fervently sought Him out: "…the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw the large crowds, he had compassion on them and healed their sick." (verse 13b-14, NIV) Obviously, I'm not suggesting that those who were bereft of their loved ones return to all their duties in such short amount of time. The grieving process may take weeks, months, or even years. Take all the necessary time you need and don't rush into things prematurely. But here's my point: Come back to reaching out to others, just as Jesus did. Americans are hurting so much, and they're in dire need of a loving, forgiving God and of true people of faith who will share Him. And that includes believers who have been deeply broken in the past, but have found healing enough to move forward & give back to others.

When the imprisoned and aging apostle Paul was nearing the end of his life, he wrote the following in II Timothy 4:6-7, "For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time has come for my departure. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." (NIV). Paul likened his life to a literal sacrificial offering being poured out on behalf of the countless people he ministered to in the service of God. He literally gave everything he had for the gospel, enduring imprisonments, stonings, numerous beatings & floggings, poverty, shipwrecks, and slander among other things. My hope and prayer is that when we all stand before God for our ultimate healing, you'll be able to say with confidence that, despite all that came your way, you have finished the race well and you have kept the faith without compromise.

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aceofshitposts · 2 years

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Uh oh it's more haytim au

"Can you do the freak out later?" Prince Timothy asks while tying the blanket around his slender waist. "We've got a lot to cover and I'd still like to get some sleep and eat something that isn't grass or apples."

Jason looks on in a frozen stupor as a half naked Goddamn Crown Prince Who Apparently Is Also A Horse starts rummaging around in his pack looking for food. Jason scrubs a hand down his face how does shit like this keep happening.

"I could be executed for this," Jason mutters unhappily while the Prince unwraps the dried jerky. "Okay, explain the horse thing then, your highness."

"Just 'Tim' is fine and uh, Ra's Al Ghul wants to marry me but I kept saying no so he took it upon himself to kidnap me and cursed me to try and," Tim waves a free hand, chewing thoughtfully on some jerky, "convince me? Blah, blah, you'll be stuck as a dumb beast of burden forever only to be human in the moonlight until you say yes. Whatever."

Tim is acting extremely nonchalant about this. Jason wants to scream.

"Wait, Al Ghul?? Isn't that guy aligned with your kingdom?"

"Yup," Tim says popping the p. "Which is why I didn't go running to my parents when I escaped. And, honestly, at this point they'd probably want me to say yes just to get everything over with. This war is cutting into their usual travel time."

"So, what, you came to Gotham to live out the rest of your horse girl dreams?"

Tim laughs. "No, I came because first if I remember correctly King Wayne and Al Ghul don't get along so this place is warded to hell and back. He'll have a hard time looking for me here. Secondly, I'll need help if I want to break the curse."

Jason decides not to comment on the mention of Bruce.

"I can't do any fancy magic. I'm just a mercenary." He gestures to his weapons just to drive his point home.

Tim smiles, slow and wide in a show of teeth that is distinctly predatory.

"Oh, of course not," he says sweetly, "we're gonna kill him."

#Jason falls asleep leaning against the tree with Tim's head in his lap btw #He wakes up also with Tim's head in his lap but he's back to being a horse #why am I writing more of this I have jaytim week to work on #jaytim #astrix writes #Does this count as crack treated seriously? Maybe.#Something something horse with forward facing eyes means they're a predator #IF YOU SAW THIS BEFORE I FIXED THE AL GHUL SPELLING NO YOU DIDN'T #haytim au

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itsnothappening · 2 years

Text

dead (or not) | jasonette

Word Count: +1.9k

summary: marinette thought jason was dead.

a/n: the fact that i wrote this because i saw a prompt on pinterest. thank you for 109 followers!

ao3 | wattpad | masterlist | prompts

part 2

Marinette didn't know how she ended up like this.

In fact, she couldn't believe she even ended up like this and was still alive. Clearly, having Tikki's luck was extremely helpful.

She straightened her back to an almost painful angle as she heard her 'leader's' icy voice echo through the room.

"Marinette," Talia Al Ghul greeted her, and silently, Marinette took her appointed place next to the woman.

Ra's Al Ghul seated himself next to Talia, leaning back in his chair.

Slowly, all the other members of the League of the Assassins filtered into the room as Talia and Ra's watched on impassively.

Without giving a single thought away, Marinette wondered what today's meeting was about.

Generally, Talia told her everything (as her right-hand woman, so to say) and needless to say, Marinette took advantage of it to prepare herself.

However, for this particular meeting, Talia hadn't breathed a single word to Marinette. In fact, Marinette wasn't even aware it was to happen today until a low-ranking member informed her of it.

Blank mask faltering for a milli-second, Marinette panicked and wondered if she had blown her cover somehow and this meeting was to discuss her fate.

"Welcome, honoured members of the League of the Assassins," Talia said smoothly, oblivious to Marinette's panic. "Apologies for calling this unexpected and unplanned meeting; something urgent has to be communicated."

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief; she hadn't blown her cover - this was a completely unplanned meeting.

Thank the kwamis.

"Recently," Ra's leaned forward now, adding his own contribution. "A few assassins found the body of a certain individual you may recognize the name of...Jason Todd."

There was no physical reaction of any of the trained assassins, but Marinette, with her slightly enhanced hearing, could hear several heartbeats picking up; in excitement or fear, she couldn't tell.

"Ra's and I plan to resurrect him with the use of the Lazarus Pits, a magical creation I am sure you have heard of." Talia continued.

This time there was a reaction. Several of the assassins straightened even further with a jerk, while others looked at Talia, aghast.

"You cannot be serious!" One assassin cried out.

He was quickly shut up with a frosty glare from Marinette. She needed to know more about this.

From all she had learnt about the vigilantes of Gotham, she knew that Jason Todd had been one of the Robins, killed by the infamous, insane Joker. Batman had, apparently, taken his death hard, being crueller and crueller with the criminals until the third Robin came along; Timothy Drake.

Not that the league knew she had that knowledge.

The saying that knowledge was power rang especially true in the situations that Marinette often found herself in, particularly with Talia.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when Talia shot the assassin who interrupted a particularly evil glare. "As I was saying, we plan to resurrect him in the Lazarus Pits, as per the wish of my father, and keep him under our care."

Ah, Marinette thought, so that was the point of all this.

Keeping someone under the league's care essentially meant converting them into one of their own.

In any other situation, Marinette would have said the same had happened to her, except for the fact that it hadn't.

She was in the League of Assassins of her own free volition and her own agenda.

All of a sudden, all the assassins were agreeing, nodding in time.

Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

All was forgotten when the league got a new assassin...not like the Lazarus Pits could cause permanent mental damage to those who took even a single dip in it.

◇─◇──◇─◇

Marinette coughed as she shielded her eyes from the bright, toxic green colours of the Lazarus Pits.

As Talia's right-hand woman, it was a given that she would accompany Talia and Ra's as they resurrected Jason.

The Lazarus Pits glowed starkly against the pitch darkness of the underground cave they were in.

Talia, somehow, seemed unperturbed by it. "Move to the banks of the Pits!" she ordered, loudly, and the assassins carrying Jason's corpse immediately hurried there.

Marinette took some more time, sensitive to the dust and heavily wishing she could wear her miraculous right now. At least it provided some extra protection against all this toxicity.

As she arrived at the banks of the Pits, Marinette saw that they had already begun to take out Jason's body from the bag they had brought him in.

When she saw the state he was in, Marinette felt the urge to puke. What kind of sicko would do this to anyone?

Talia hadn't even spared the body a glance, instead, analysing the waters of the Pits.

If she leaned any further, she was going to fall right in, Marinette thought with a healthy amount of malice.

Once they had the body out, one of the assassins turned to Talia.

Already excited at the prospect of getting another assassin, Talia gleefully said, "Dip it in."

Talia didn't even see Jason Todd as a real person.

◇─◇──◇─◇

Fast-forwarding to a few months later, you would find Marinette and Jason sparring in a room in the League of Assassins.

Marinette gave Jason a triumphant grin as she bested him once again. "Nice try, Todd. Fix your stance. Remember, you can't give your opponent-"

"-A single advantage," interrupted Jason with an exasperated grin. "I know, it's not the first time you've told me."

The day Jason was brought back to life went off without a hitch, as Talia often liked to brag to Marinette.

Almost immediately after he was well in terms of physical health, Jason was handed over to Marinette, she being one of the best assassins at the League of the Assassins.

At first, it was awkward with Jason not willing to trust Marinette (why would he?) and Marinette just generally being very awkward around him.

Eventually though, Marinette came to the realization that she needed to tell Jasons something about herself if she was going to get him to trust her.

So she told him she wasn't like everyone around here.

Something in her tone must have convinced him, though, because the next day, he was seemed to be more willing to trust her.

That was how they ended up at the present moment.

"Come on, Todd." Marinette shot him an indulgent grin. "Let's take a water break."

Jason sat up, giving her a handsome grin that did not make Marinette's heart beat faster at all. "Whatever you say."

As they sat side-by-side on the chilly floor, Marinette felt her skin heat up as Jason's muscled arms brushed against her own.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, catching their breaths.

"Why do you stay here if you're not like them?"

Marinette froze. She knew Jason had been wanting to ask this for some time, but she didn't know whether she should tell him the real reason.

Opting to deflect, she gave him a smirk. "Thinking, are we?"

Rolling her eyes at her poor attempt, Jason didn't seem to want to budge. "Come on Marinette. Answer the question."

Marinette waited for a few seconds, hoping that he would take it back and just leave it alone.

When he didn't she sighed, slouching against the wall. "I have my reasons."

Jason persisted, though. "What are your reasons? If they even exist, you know."

Marinette's head shot up, hurt and anger dominant in her eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Jason didn't even seem to care that he pissed her off. "Do you know the number of people you've killed for Talia? Why would you do that?"

If Marinette knew what would happen next, maybe she would have answered, but at that point, she was just too angry to form a proper, justifiable answer.

Standing up, Marinette leaned down until she was nose-to-nose with Jason.

"Like I said before," she breathed. "I have my reasons."

Turning her back on him, she didn't notice the crestfallen expression on his face as he looked at his watch and then the vent above.

The next day he was gone.

The league never found his body.

◇─◇──◇─◇

Exactly five months and six days later, Marinette was planning her escape from the League of the Assassins.

She had spent years planning her escape and knew her whole plan by heart.

It was simple really; there were only three steps.

The first was to steal the powerful miraculous the league had in their clutches. Marinette could check that off the list, having used several precautions to make sure the league never found out that the 'miraculous' they now had wasn't real.

After that, she had to figure out a way to make it seem like she was dead so that none of the assassins were on the lookout for her. After 'dying' she was going to escape in the chaos.

The final step was probably the hardest. It was moving to Gotham because Marinette had heard that there were a lot of lost miraculous there.

Like she said before, it was simple.

Gathering all of her important belongings, Marinette dumped them all in a corner of the room. Placing the charred body she had stolen from the morgue (don't even ask), Marinette pulled out a matchbox.

Her eyes glowed as she lit the match on fire, and dropped it casually on the bed.

It lit up immediately, flames sparking and spreading all over the room. Dumping the body on the side of the room, Marinette gathered her belongings and climbed up to the vent in her room.

She wrinkled her nose at the smell.

◇─◇──◇─◇

Five months and twenty-six days later, Marinette had a steady job at Wayne Enterprises, which was being the entire family's professional designer.

It suited her well, and Marinette could say she definitely enjoyed it.

That was, until she ran into an old acquaintance of hers. Specifically, someone she thought was dead.

To be exact, Jason Todd.

◇─◇──◇─◇

It was a regular day for Marinette.

Until, Mr. Wayne told her she was going to meet the entire Wayne family, suddenly deciding to get a new wardrobe from her.

Completely flabbergasted, Marinette couldn't find it in herself to refuse, especially with the price Mr. Wayne offered.

She had just finished with Mr. Grayson's measurements and told him to call the next person in.

That was when he walked in.

He looked a bit older (obviously) but he was just as handsome as ever, and some of the light that was absent in his eyes before, was shining now.

Marinette, who was drinking a sip of water as he walked in, choked on her drink, coughing madly.

Immediately, he launched himself towards her, rubbing her back.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, and all Marinette could register was that he even sounded the same.

"Holy shit," Marinette swore. "Jason? Is that you?"

His head snapped back and suddenly Marinette was staring into his familiar blue eyes.

"Marinette?" he gasped, taking a few steps back.

◇─◇──◇─◇

"How are you alive?" Marinette sputtered, unable to believe that this was the Jason Todd. How did she not know this?

Completely ignoring her question, Jason asked her one of his own. "What are you doing here?"

"Answer me, first." Marinette shot him a dangerous glare; something she had perfected in her years at the League of Assassins.

"It's a long story," Jason said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Marinette scoffed. "You conned me into thinking you were dead for eleven months. I have time."

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